


It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

by WinchesterPooja (chronic_potterphile)



Series: Holly [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 7.16 and 7.17 spoilers, Angst, Brother Feels, Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Original Character - Freeform, Swearing, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, but previous Sam/OFC smut, canon mental disorder, gen - Freeform, season 7 fic, sexual situation, spoilers for episode 8.18: Freaks and Geeks, unintentional child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronic_potterphile/pseuds/WinchesterPooja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sighed. The eyes, the dimples, the stubborn crankiness… they had a mini, female Sam in their hands. This was going to be hard.</p><p>Sam's soulless days come to catch up with him and the Winchesters find themselves in a situation: Sam has a toddler daughter. There are difficult times and sad times, and then there are times with cuddles, bathtub babbles and wild ponytails on Sam's hair. He realises this might be the best and worst thing in his life all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Single Night

**Author's Note:**

> EEEP. So this is my first big bang ever! I feel so nervous and so accomplished all at once! But before I go on, I need to thank a LOT of people, because, without them, this would be nothing.
> 
> I totally love, in no particular order,
> 
> spn_j2_bigbang and wendy for organising this thing so beautifully and being awesome.
> 
> My betas walking_tornado and vyperdd for giving time to this fic and the spit-and-polish effect with their perfect suggestions and inputs. Without you guys, this fic wouldn’t even be worth reading. I swear it.
> 
> The wonderful, wonderful, nomercles , who is one of the most talented artists on this planet, for claiming my fic and being quick with the reading, feedback, and producing a lot of wonderful art, very fast, with the right amount of feels. I also gained a friend in the course of this big bang and it’s something that I’ll always be thankful for. Here's a link to the wonderful stuff she's made: http://nomercles.livejournal.com/204618.html
> 
> famke302 , my partner-in-crime for this fic, responsible, as much as I am, for Holly, and a lot of the plot of this story, and for being there for all the late-night Holly squees.
> 
> spn_bookworm for being one of the best cheerleaders I could ever have and for bearing all my rants, and for being a wonderful person overall.
> 
> My dearest flist who let me rant about anything and everything on the LS, although it could have been annoying. And who were there when I was facing a bad time in RL during the course of writing this fic.
> 
> My sister, Nadia, who doesn’t even watch SPN, but let me screenshot all the plans I had for Holly and squee to her, and for encouraging me, and just being present in my life. For being a huge pillar of support and a lighthouse when things fall apart in my life.
> 
> And now that you know the exact people who are responsible for this fic being on the screen in front of you, I hope the story doesn’t disappoint! Holly is a mixture of a few actual children I’ve known in my life and she would definitely be the OC that I love the most. There are some dialogues in chapter 9 which are taken from the actual show.
> 
> Enjoy (hopefully), and feedback is always welcome!

#  ****

#  **One: A Single Night**

 

_"Oh… oh my…"_

"Sam, are you listening to me?"

Sam snapped out of his reverie and turned to Dean, who was staring at the dark road ahead of them, clutching the wheel of the white 1970 Monte Carlo SS that they had rented. The streetlamps came and went, and bars of orange light illuminated Dean's weary face, reminding Sam of how tired the two of them were — of how bad things had been of late. They were on their way to Atlanta, Georgia, based on a phone call that Sam had received, and Dean was still unhappy about it.

"There's nothing left of my wall to break, Dean," Sam replied with a sigh. "Going back to a place where I completed a job while I was soulless isn't going to make me any worse." He proceeded to rub his own eyes. He was so worn-out he could be comatose, yet Lucifer wouldn't let him sleep. His head hurt and his body ached. He wished for a few hours of peace, but his own mind wouldn't allow him that.

"It's not that," Dean replied, his eyes still on the road. "We never go back to any town where either of us has worked a case, remember?"

"Yeah, but this is not like the last time," Sam insisted, referring to the hunt that they had sorted out in Rhode Island. "We didn't know the source of our information then, but this time I know. I remember."

"So is this Allison chick trustworthy or what?"

"Yeah, she knows what we do. She realised I wasn't an FBI agent early on during the case."

There was silence, and Sam put his head against the window, shutting his eyes and willing sleep to overtake his senses. Soon, his mind was drifting away, taking him to memories of the past.

_He and Allison were in her apartment. They were alone and Sam was bleeding from a spot just below his belly button. Little rivers of crimson flowed down his lower abdomen, into the pad of cotton that Allison was holding below. She was helping patch up the wound. He was shirtless, leaning against the bathroom sink while she sat down on the toilet, trying to stem the blood flow, and, when that was done, she dabbed antiseptic-soaked cotton on the cut._

_"This doesn't need stitches," she said, sounding relieved as she examined the wound and reached for a bandage. She put a wad of cotton over it and then taped it up, standing up from her place and giving him a half-smile. "All done there."_

_"Mmm hmm." He smirked back at her and she bit her lip unsurely in reply. "Thanks," he said._

_"No problem."_

_She made to walk out of the bathroom, but he grasped her wrist, his smile widening as she turned around to look at him. Before they knew it, he had hauled her up on the sink, and they started to kiss frantically._

_"Sam…"_

_Slender fingers traced the area below his navel and went down to undo his jeans, reaching for his boxers. Sam gasped, crashing his lips with Allison's, tongue bordering her mouth, hands gripping her thighs and slowly creeping under her skirt…_

_She pulled away, just for a moment. "Bedroom," she gasped._

**"Oh, that's sexy, Sam."**

Sam sat upright at Lucifer's voice; all sleep leaving him as he rubbed his slightly sore neck and swore under his breath. It seemed like he had managed to catch a few minutes of sleep, but then his _stupid, fucking mind_. . .

"Have you tried sleeping pills?" Dean asked, glancing over at Sam briefly, concern flashing in his eyes.

"Yeah. They work sometimes, and sometimes they don't," Sam replied, yawning, his eyes filling up with tears of exhaustion. He rubbed them away and smacked his dry lips. "Hey, could we stop for coffee?"

There was silence again, except for the purr of the car, but Sam knew that Dean's lack of reply meant a 'yes'. A lot of conversations between them were characterised by plain silence lately. There barely seemed anything to talk about anymore, because honestly, what would they converse about? The latest deaths? Dick Roman? How they were practically alone now, Sam for Dean, Dean for Sam, with _no one_ _else_?

They stopped at the next coffee shop, grabbed their coffees and set out again, and Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him. He sighed.

"I'm okay, Dean."

"Sure you are," Dean muttered.

"Anything on Frank yet?" Sam asked his brother uselessly. They both knew the answer to that, but Sam really wanted to push the conversation away from his deteriorating mental health. It wasn't as if Dean could take any more shit anyway. Sam wanted his big brother to have one less thing to worry about.

"Yeah, he's dead," Dean replied stoically. He reached for his coffee and took a quick sip before squinting back at the road. "So."

"So?" Sam turned to his brother, putting his own Styrofoam cup to his mouth, and realised that he had drained it already. The stuff had gone down like water.

"Did you bang her?" Dean asked him.

"Who?"

"Allison?"

Sam swallowed at the question. Did he bang Allison? That wasn't the question at all. How many times he had done it in his week at Georgia with Samuel — that was the better query.

_"My boyfriend's been missing for two months. I think he might be d-dead."_

_"Oh, Sam…"_

_"Bedroom."_

_Sam lifted her off the bathroom sink in one go, letting her wrap her legs around his hips as she dipped her face to kiss his neck. They were in the bedroom in a moment. They undressed quickly, their breaths coming in short, urgent pants. She pushed him onto the bed, crawling up over him and straddling him, her face coming down again to meet lips with his._

_His hands wandered on her back to locate the bra hooks and one-by-one, they were both off. The bra came away and she took his hands in hers and led his long-fingered palms to her full breasts, before coming back down to kiss him again._

_His body reacted, goosebumps forming everywhere, and his toes curled at the impending pleasure. She kissed his jaw, and then his neck and his chest. His hands let go of her breasts and got hold of her hair, long strands slipping between his fingers, tickling their webs. He hissed, and she slipped lower still, and he groaned as her lips found a sensitive area, making him quiver with pleasure._

"You banged her, didn't you?" Dean asked Sam again, but it looked like he already knew the answer.

"I was soulless, remember?" Sam replied wearily, running a hand through his hair. "Apparently, the only instincts I had were hunger, thirst and lust."

"Yeah, and I feel dirty saying this, I really do," Dean said, "but dude, there's got to be a limit to this. How didn't you catch the fucking clap from all that? It's not fair. I behave like you, and I get that waitress in Tampa!"

Sam smiled at the incident with the waitress. Dean had been wary of his sexual partners for months after that, and then had gone back to his old ways, but the episode hadn't repeated itself.

"Stop smiling like a bitch," Dean snapped. "Should I remind you of the wonderful time you had when that witch gave you the clap?"

"No, thanks," said Sam, immediately making an effort to stop smiling. It was still a painful memory. Especially with all the itching and burning… _God_.

"So, what does this Allison want?" Dean asked Sam, diverting his mind from the disturbing memory.

Sam cleared his throat. "Well, apparently, she's seeing her boyfriend again."

"Not in the good way, I gather."

"No," Sam replied. "He is dead. And there have been killings too. Around where Allison is living. Stabbings. From the kind of wounds on the victims, the local cops have classified these as homicide, but they have nothing on the culprit."

"So it's one of our random, psycho, run-of-the-mill monsters."

"Seems like it."

Dean scratched at his nose. "Was the boyfriend buried or cremated?"

"No idea."

"So we could just be dealing with a spirit here," Dean deduced, cocking an eyebrow.

"I guess so," Sam admitted to him.

"Aren't we going too far for just a salt and burn, Sam? We could have sent someone else," said Dean, rubbing between his eyebrows irately for a moment before putting his hand on the wheel again. "I mean, we have a lot of other shit to deal with right now."

"Yeah," Sam replied, "but the thing is, she wants to see me again. She said there is something important that she has to talk to me about."

"Did you ask her what it was?"

"I did, but she wants to meet me in person."

Dean raised an eyebrow, his eyes still trained on the road. "Sammy," he said cautiously, "what did you do to her?"

"Nothing, Dean," said Sam. "Well, if you don't count the sex…"

"There isn't something I should know about, is there?"

"No," Sam replied, fingering a tear in his jeans. "Unless you want details—"

Dean scrunched his face. "Keep those to yourself. That Ruby bitch still haunts me, thank you very much."

Sam chuckled and folded his arms. "And for all your 'natural process' talks, Dean…"

"Shut up," said Dean, spots of pink appearing on his cheeks. "We're done here." He reached for the radio and switched on a channel, which happened to be playing AC/DC. "Huh," he said happily. "Look at that!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm going to try to sleep."

"You want me to change the music to some soft rock?" Dean asked him, and Sam was surprised by the concern in his voice.

He shook his head. "No. But thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," said Dean, but he changed the channel anyway, and Sam flashed him a smile before leaning against the window and drifting away into sleep for as much time as his mind would allow him.

**~o~**

Allison Lane was fidgety. She was nervous, anxious and terrified. Her gut had been tingling for days with an intuition: a terrible, daunting thought that wouldn't go away. She was scared. Extremely scared. And she had good reason to be afraid.

She had been catching glimpses of her dead boyfriend, Henry, for a while now. She saw him when she went to work or to the grocery store, and she saw him when she came home. He lurked in the corners of her eyes as though he were stalking her. If she hadn't been aware of the various, terrible, scary things that skulked out there in the dark, Allison would have been worried that her busy life was finally catching up with her. But no. Thanks to one Sam Winchester from two years ago, Allison knew that she wasn't hallucinating or imagining the situation. And somehow, this was less comforting than the possibility of having a mental illness.

Henry had died a horrible death. A werewolf had killed him and kept his corpse locked in a shed, along with its other prey, when it had finished eating their hearts. When the number of disappearances around the town had increased, the FBI became concerned and sent two of their agents to look into the case. Allison discovered later on that they were not FBI agents. They were ghost hunters.

Allison had forced the truth out of the younger of the two 'agents.' She told them that she was aware they weren't with the FBI, and had threatened to file a report with the police if they didn't tell her what was really going on. The young man, Sam, had given in. He told her a few secrets, and then some more — some during the day and some during the night. The nights had been as unforgettable as the days.

Once Allison had started to see Henry again, she had called Sam and informed him. He sounded different on the phone, somehow: softer, and… tired. Allison wondered what had changed. By the time she had reached the end of her conversation with Sam, Allison had also reached an important decision. She told Sam that she needed to speak to him face-to-face, thus requesting him to come to solve the case in person instead of sending someone else, like he had suggested. And now, as she thought about those moments with Sam two years ago, Allison couldn't wait to see him again and talk to him.

Her roommate, Veronica, didn't believe Allison when she told her about seeing Henry around. It did sound pretty crazy if you didn't know and believe that the supernatural actually existed. So Allison had stopped bothering Veronica and had decided to let Sam handle this.

Allison blinked as she realised that the couch she was sitting on was suddenly too uncomfortable. Her heart fluttering uneasily, she leapt up and looked around the living room. She could swear she had heard a sound from the farthest end of the hallway — footsteps, maybe — but she wasn't sure.

She crossed her fingers, entered the hallway, and waited for a moment by the first room. The door to the room was shut, but Allison wished she had an extra-strong lock she could put on it. She had a bad feeling about today, and hidden behind that door was the one thing in this world that was precious to her.

Allison made her way to the stairs and held the wooden railing.

"Veronica?" she called out, looking up the staircase, wondering if Veronica was in her room. "You in?" she enquired again, but she wasn't surprised when Veronica didn't answer, since she had a date with her boyfriend that evening.

More footsteps sounded, from the living room this time, and Allison's heart throbbed as she turned around, but there was no one. She went back to the couch and knelt on the cushions, reaching to part the window curtains. All she saw outside was the small, empty yard. That was when she heard shuffling from outside the door.

Allison made her way outside to the porch. The driveway was empty and there was no one to be seen. The neighbourhood was relatively quiet tonight. Allison let out a shallow breath and hugged herself, feeling goosebumps rise everywhere when she realised that someone was right behind her. She turned around nervously.

A figure moved in the shadows and, the next instant, Henry stepped out of the darkness and smirked at her.

"Hey, Allison," he said in a low voice.

Allison took a step back. "Henry," she breathed, "what are you doing here?"

His grin widened, as he walked towards her. Allison began to back away but soon she hit the wall of the shed, and her breath came in short gasps as she watched Henry advance on her. Tears sprung in Allison's eyes. She glanced at the house, and said a silent prayer in her heart before turning to Henry.

"What do you want?"

He shook his head. There was a flash of silvery metal.

"No!" Allison gasped. She held his wrist with both hands and tried to keep the knife away, but failed. He overpowered her easily. She started to scream. His free hand went to her mouth, muffling any sounds from her. She scrabbled at his armed hand, weakly trying to fight him but before she knew it, there was excruciating pain. Her vision tunnelled as she saw the crimson of spurting blood.

She was still trying to fight him but his hand slipped away, albeit leaving behind a dislodged fingernail in her hand.

The fingernail fell to the floor as she gave in to the blackness.

**~o~**

**_The next day_ **

Sam frowned as the coroner undid the zipper on the body bag to reveal Allison's pale corpse, supine in a sea of black. A large wound decorated her abdomen and Sam tightened his gloves around his fingers before reaching for the mouth of the injury and inserting his finger, trying to assess the depth.

It was very deep. There were no hesitation cuts, and, as Sam prodded at the wound, he realised that the stab was upwards, in a direction which would have been difficult to achieve with one's own hand. No one killed themselves meticulously. They usually hesitated, but even if they didn't, the direction of the stabbing was almost always downwards or sideways, since these were easier to attain when the person was being quick and impulsive.

Definitely a murder. And if Allison was to be believed, this was positively supernatural.

**~o~**

After inspecting Allison's body, Sam and Dean made their way to her house to speak to her roommate. The young, scared woman had tears in her eyes when Sam and Dean introduced themselves as FBI agents.

"Come on in," she said, wiping her eyes. "My name is Veronica." Veronica was in her late twenties, and she had blonde hair which was currently swept up in a ponytail. She led Sam and Dean into her cosy little house and gestured for them to sit.

"We're sorry about your loss, Veronica," Sam said softly as he and Dean made themselves comfortable on the couch. "We understand you were close to Allison. We just need you to answer a few questions, for the investigation."

Veronica nodded. "Allison was my best friend." A wistful smile appeared on her face, and a tear fell out of her eye. "I will do anything to help," she said.

Dean stood up and cleared his throat. "I'm going to take a look at the…" He jabbed his thumb at the window, towards the garden, where the crime scene was cordoned off by the police. "If you don't mind," he added to Veronica, whose eyes were tearing up again.

"Sure," she whispered.

Dean nodded at her, and gestured for Sam to continue, before making his way out of the house. Sam watched his brother leave and turned back to Veronica, leaning forward, so he could continue talking to her. "Was Allison… was she behaving strange in the days before her death? Was she scared of something or someone?" he asked.

"Well, actually, yes," she replied. "She… she…" Veronica paused, and bit her lip. "It was weird."

"How so?"

"Well," Veronica looked at the floor, as though she were unsure how to say it. "Allison… she thought she was being stalked by her dead boyfriend."

Sam pursed his lips. "Was he buried or cremated?"

Veronica raised her eyebrow. "Cremated, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Just checking."

There was silence as Sam waited for Dean to return. In the meantime, he noticed that Veronica was staring at him. Her eyes narrowed, and he looked away from her awkwardly. "Uh…" he said, keeping his eyes fixed on a wall behind Veronica, "we'll be out of your hair in a minute."

Veronica nodded, but her scrutiny didn't end. Sam licked his lips and played with his fingers. This woman was strange.

"I know you," Veronica said suddenly, just as Sam was thinking of joining Dean outside. He looked up at her. "Well, I've heard of you," she corrected herself. "Weren't you Allison's… that FBI guy she had a thing with? Are you him?"

Sam didn't know if it could get any more awkward, but he nodded. Veronica's eyes turned soft, as she clasped her hands together. "Did Allison say she wanted to talk to you? About something?"

Sam didn't know how this had anything to do with Veronica, but he nodded. "Do you know what it was?" he asked her.

Veronica ran a hand through her hair. "I do. I do, actually."

"Can you tell me?"

She turned around, and glanced at the hallway behind her. "I can't tell — you'll have to see."

"See what?"

"Come with me."

Just as Veronica stood up from her place and took a few steps, the door opened, and Dean walked in, sweating slightly from the sun outside. He raised his eyebrows at Sam, and made a gesture to say that he had found something. Sam waited as his brother made a beeline for him.

"Fingernail," said Dean in a low voice, when he had come close enough, producing something from his pocket and blocking it from Veronica's view. "I found it near the bushes where she was found. Police must have missed it."

"How do you know it's the killer's?" Sam whispered to him.

"Touch it."

Sam hesitantly raised his hand and prodded at the tiny, white fingernail in Dean's palm, recognising the anomaly immediately. The fingernail wasn't hard or smooth like it should have been. It was soft, damp and rubbery. Sam took his hand away. "Shape-shifter."

"Yup," Dean agreed with him. "Gets his kink off killing ladies with dead exes."

Sam scrunched his nose, and then looked at Veronica, who was still waiting for him. "I'll be back in a minute," he told Dean, and his brother nodded.

"Don't take too long."

Sam didn't reply to that as he followed Veronica to the first room in the hallway. The door was shut almost all the way and Veronica stopped outside for a moment, before pushing it open.

"Here you go," she said. "Might be a bit of a shocker but…" she shrugged, "Allison had wanted to tell you for a while now."

Sam stood before the room and took a peek inside, and his heart missed a beat when he saw it.

The room was actually a nursery.

 

 


	2. An Unexpected Turn

# Two: An Unexpected Turn

 

 

The nursery was simple and tastefully done. A small, white ceiling fan rotated slowly in a low murmur above the crib. _Winnie the Pooh_ and _Bambi_ papered the walls and gave the place a cheerful atmosphere. The room lacked general furniture. Apart from the crib, only an armchair stood next to a closet, which was decorated with more cartoon stickers.

Sam tore his eyes away from the décor and looked at the little child sleeping in the crib before him.

It cooed.

Sam's heart leapt into his throat. The child had fucking _cooed_.

 _No, scratch that_ , Sam thought, as he watched it shift in its crib. It was a toddler, and it was merely making a sound in its sleep. Toddlers didn't coo. Or did they? How old was this thing?

 _Her_ , Sam corrected himself. It was a _she_.

 **Uh oh, Sam, I think we're in a bit of trouble here,** said Lucifer in a singsong voice, suddenly appearing in the periphery of Sam's vision. Sam tried not to pay attention to him but he couldn't help but think that Lucifer was right. Why would Veronica bring him in to see a child unless…?

Sam stopped his thoughts there. _No_. He wouldn't be thinking about it. This needn't be what he thought it was.

A ringlet of dark hair fell on the baby's eyes and Veronica smiled, reaching forward to brush it off. Sam thought of those times he'd spent, soulless, banging Allison, and shuddered. He hoped he'd worn condoms, but from the way things were going…

"Her name is Holly," Veronica said softly, and Sam couldn't help but notice the adoration that she had in her eyes for the toddler. From the crib, Holly made a small noise again, and a tiny hand curled around her stuffed rabbit as a thumb found its way into her mouth.

Sam watched her for a moment, listening to the soft, sucking noises from the crib, as Holly slept on. She had dark, thick hair, arranged around her chubby face in a slightly messy smattering of curls that almost reached her chin. Tiny, pink lips surrounded her thumb, sucking incessantly, and her pudgy legs kicked lightly at the small blanket over her.

It was _adorable_.

He turned to Veronica, eyebrows raised quizzically. "Was she… Allison's?"

Veronica nodded. "Holly is eighteen months old."

Sam concentrated on a small piece of peeling paint while counting quickly in his head. If Holly was eighteen months old, it meant she was conceived roughly twenty seven months ago. And that meant—

As Sam tried to remember what month he and Samuel had solved Henry's case, something that felt like a brick dropped down into his gut. No. _No_.

He swallowed. "Is… is Henry the father?" There was a ringing in his ears. He felt sick, and he hoped this was a fluke… that this was all a fluke…

Veronica seemed to have misread him, as a huge smile broke across her features. "No, silly," she said softly, " _you're_ Holly's dad! That's what Allison wanted to tell you. I thought you'd have guessed it."

Sam felt bile rise up his throat. He swallowed it down with great difficulty, as a single thought flashed across his mind: _oh, fuck_.

 

 

Holly

 

**~o~**

 

 

"Henry was missing for two months before Allison met you," Veronica said in a low voice, settling on the armrest of Sam's chair. He had collapsed there sometime after receiving news that he had a child — a daughter — and Veronica still didn't seem to understand how very _wrong_ it was.

He could replay the memories of those nights with Allison in his head, but none of it felt like him — because, technically, it was only his body. Sam shuddered. Had he also lacked judgement when he was soulless? Why hadn't he just used some condoms? And if it wasn't enough that he felt violated… this?

It was really lucky, then, that Sam hadn't caught any of those STDs during his soulless days.

"Allison knew when she found out about her pregnancy, that the baby was yours," Veronica continued. "We weren't roommates then, but she didn't have the finances to keep her home and the baby, so we decided to buy a house together. It solved both our money issues. She doesn't have any surviving family members, except for Holly. And I'd adopt Holly officially, but…" she hesitated, "I don't have the money or the facilities."

Sam swallowed. He was one of the last people to have any facilities to take care of a child, but he couldn't tell that to Veronica. She had no idea about the supernatural, or that Sam wasn't really a FBI agent.

"You're from the FBI," she said. "You're Holly's biological father. You can take much better care of her."

Holly made another sound from her crib and Sam averted his eyes from Veronica to his… well, _daughter_. He could see her squirm to make herself more comfortable in the crib and in another moment, she was fast asleep again.

"You can give her a better future than I can," Veronica murmured. Sam was surprised to see that her eyes were filling up. "I really want to keep her, you know," she said softly. "I wish I had something… that I could…" she bit her lip, and turned to him. "I can't bear to put her into foster care. I want to know that she has a good home."

Sam clenched his jaw. He got where Veronica was coming from, he really did, but this was one responsibility he couldn't take. He and Dean weren't exactly rich — and okay, even if they did manage to scrounge up money through hustling and credit card scams, they had a very dangerous job, and they couldn't risk a child getting caught in their lives. Plus, with the whole Lucifer thing Sam had going, he was sure that the CPS, and pretty much any court or doctor out there, would classify him as 'mentally unstable'. So no — there was really no way he could keep Holly with him.

He cleared his throat. "Look, Veronica," he said, "taking her with me — I don't think it's a good idea."

She narrowed her eyes. "She's your _daughter_."

"I know," Sam said, before she could get angry, "but the life I live — I can't raise a child in it. It's too dangerous for her." _I'm too dangerous for her_ , he thought.

**Oh, that is so sad. Sammy can't keep his baby!**

Sam took a sharp breath of air and ignored Lucifer, paying attention to Veronica instead. She was glaring at him.

"So you'd rather she rot in foster care — maybe land with some abusive folk, than have her stay with you because you can't miss a day at the office, or care to lock your gun away from her?" she asked him crossly. "She's just a baby! She doesn't even know that Allison is—" her breath caught in her throat and she blinked back tears. "She doesn't have a mom anymore but she has a dad and deserves her father's care," Veronica finished.

**She makes a good point, Sam,** said Lucifer, as he stood over Holly's crib and looked in. **Tell her how sane you are.**

Sam ignored it again. _If only Veronica knew what kind of a mess Holly's 'father' is_ , he thought ruefully. He sighed. "Look… I can't tell you why… but I'm not the right person for this." He clenched his jaw again. "You can give her up for adoption. Find a good family and just keep her with you a few days—" He was interrupted by a sound from the crib before him.

_"Mommy!"_

From the cot Lucifer shrugged at Sam and Sam gritted his teeth, trying to will the hallucination away. Veronica's lips parted at the sound and in a swift gesture, she wiped away the tears from her eyes. Moving closer to the crib, she sniffed, and spoke. "Hi, sweetie!" Lowering her arms into the cot, she lifted up the little girl, who rested her head on Veronica's shoulder.

"Where Mommy?" she enquired tiredly.

"Mommy's gone out, baby," Veronica said softly, blinking back tears again. "You want to meet this nice man here?"

Holly twisted about, her tiny fist rubbing her eye, as she spotted Sam. She glanced at him and looked away, putting her arms around Veronica's neck. "Want Mommy," she said stubbornly, almost breaking Sam's heart in half. He couldn't remember his early years all that much, but he wouldn't forget the ache and the longing for a mother. He could still recollect watching jealously as all the mothers dropped off his classmates at school, with the _nice_ PBJs and cheek kisses and the general wonderfulness of being _moms_. Overwhelmed, he would pray to God to give him back his own mother (and how naïve he was, to think that God cared).

Sam would do that every day, until Dean told him on one bleak, terrible evening, that their mom was never coming back. And when Sam cried and bawled and sobbed that day, for once, Dean didn't make fun of him for it.

True, Dean had raised Sam the best as he could (with their dad trying to seek his revenge and drinking away his anger in the background), but Dean wasn't Sam's mom — he could never be — and for a moment, Sam wondered what the rest of Holly's life was going to be like. She didn't even have an older sibling to look out for her.

Sam licked his dry lips, sympathy prickling at him, and stood up, ready to leave the room. Even if Holly was technically his daughter, he felt as though he was invading a private family moment. Just as he made his way to the door, Veronica called out to him. "Wait!"

He turned around, and she came forward with the child, before disentangling Holly and holding her out to Sam. Holly was now beginning to get annoyed and her lips quivered. Sam reluctantly took her in his arms, just before she began to wail.

Holly squirmed and battled against Sam's grip, even as he patted her back awkwardly, trying to calm her down. "It's okay," he said softly. "Stop crying."

The child's warm, wet face pushed against his cheek as she continued to cry despite his attempts to calm her. Sam tried bouncing her, but she wouldn't stop crying. Tired, he handed her back to Veronica, just as Dean entered the room.

"Dude," he said, "I've been waiting forever. What are you—?"

Dean stopped dead at the scene before him. Green eyes scanned the room as he took in the crying baby, held by Veronica, and a very confused Sam, who stood beside them. He raised an eyebrow. "Sam, if you could control your maternal instincts for a while, we've got work to do."

Sam nodded at him and licked his lips again. He needed to tell Dean about this. Dean would know what to do. Sam cleared his throat. "Dean, I need to talk to you."

"Sure," his brother replied. "In the car." He turned to Veronica. "Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am, we'll get back to you—"

" _Dean_ ," Sam interrupted him, gesturing to the other room. Sam started to make his way there, and sensed Dean following him in, bewildered. He locked the door behind him, and took a deep breath. Dean wasn't saying anything, which was cue for Sam to continue.

"Okay," Sam said, biting the inside of his cheek lightly, "you saw that kid, right?"

"The one that's making you get lactation stains on your shirt?" Dean asked him, "Yeah. I saw her. Why?"

"Well…" Sam began, and then decided he might as well say it, "apparently, she's mine."

Dean's expression didn't change. His eyebrows were still knitted together in a frown and he fiddled with the sleeve of his blazer for a moment, before saying, " _What?_ "

"Allison…" Sam began, and swallowed. "Well, she and I…"

"… banged—"

"— many times," Sam finished for his brother.

Dean's eyes widened. "Oookay. Allison say this on the phone to you? That the kid is yours?"

"No," said Sam.

"Then how do you know that it is really yours?"

"Veronica said—" Sam began, but Dean interrupted him again.

"Does it occur to you that she might be lying?"

"Why would she lie about it? She could always dump Holly in foster care if she didn't give a damn."

"Yeah, but maybe she just doesn't want responsibility, but is concerned about the kid all the same," Dean shrugs. "Maybe she saw you, and thought, 'hey, FBI agent, slept with my roommate a lot, looks like a big softie,' and decided to fill you in with crap."

"I didn't tell her I was ready to adopt," said Sam.

"Good," replied Dean. "Let's get moving."

He made to exit the room, when Sam stopped him. "Dean…" He hesitated when his brother turned around. "What if it really—"

"— is yours?" Dean asked him. He took a deep breath. "I don't know, man, after that Lydia thing…"

"Allison was human," Sam told him. "I'm sure of it."

Dean puffed his cheeks and let out a stream of air through his mouth. "Okay," he sighed. "But Sammy, we ain't taking in any kids without a paternity test. And if she starts acting weird — like _monster_ weird, we ice her, okay? Your kid or not, we ice her."

Sam cringed when Dean said that, but he reckoned the whole Emma-Lydia incident had really done a number on his brother. So he agreed. "Okay. We'll do the paternity test and watch her. Done."

**~o~**

**_Two days later_ **

"Congratulations. You're a dad."

Sam stared at his brother, processing his bland words in the silence of the car. Sometime after Air Supply had killed Dean's mood, he had switched off the radio while they drove to the clinic to collect Sam's results. Then, unable to see it for himself first, Sam had handed the envelope to Dean and requested him to look.

Currently, Dean sighed and handed the papers to Sam so he could see the test results as well. Sam took the papers with shaky hands and smoothed them, swallowing when he read it.

Dean wasn't kidding.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and rested his elbow on his knee. His head hurt. Lucifer wouldn't stop singing 'Girlfriend'. There was a shape-shifter that needed to be killed. And he had an eighteen-month-old daughter. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Aren't you going to celebrate?" Dean asked him. Sam shot him a look of disapproval, causing his brother to arch an eyebrow. "Don't give me that, Sam, I wasn't the one who told you not to wear condoms."

"I was soulless."

"And apparently, really stupid."

Sam sighed. "What do I do, Dean?"

Dean licked his lips. A car whizzed past them, honking and speeding, drowning every other sound in some ear-splitting rap music. Dean glared after it for a while, muttering something about teenagers, and turned his attention back to Sam. "We need to start looking for a good family that will adopt her," he said finally. "I mean," he continued, "with the Leviathans and Lucifer and our hunting and everything else, it's too dangerous for a kid."

He was right. Even if they quit now, they were on the 'most wanted' list for the Leviathans, and there was no saying as to when they would be attacked without warning. Plus, Sam really didn't think he could handle the responsibility of a child.

"So what do we do?" he asked.

"We could keep her with us for a while, since that Veronica chick is so insistent," Dean said, shrugging. "We can lay low in Rufus' cabin and give her up for adoption as soon as possible." He paused. "Why can't Veronica do it instead? The kid doesn't need to be with you to get adopted."

"She says she doesn't have the finances or something," said Sam, rubbing vigorously at his forehead. "I don't know, Dean."

"Yeah, well, that's a load of bull. She doesn't want responsibility of the kid. I'm tellin' ya."

"Yeah, maybe," said Sam. "So are we going to bring Holly back just now, or…?"

"We gotta hunt tomorrow, Sam. We have to decide on whatever we have to do with Holly right away."

"Yeah." Sam remembered. He paused, letting the silence take over for a while. "Let's get her."

They were back at Allison's place in fifteen minutes. Sam rang the doorbell and waited. It was answered by a disgruntled and dishevelled Veronica. "Oh, hey…" she said, her eyes darting about, "come in." Her t-shirt was on backwards and just as Sam and Dean seated themselves on the couch, there was a voice from the bedroom.

"Who is it, Veronica?" It was a man.

"I'll be right back," Veronica called out, taking her place on an armchair. She looked at Sam. "She's yours, isn't she? Holly?"

Sam nodded, and then shrugged. "I had to confirm."

"I get that," Veronica replied. "So are you taking her with you?"

"Yeah," said Sam, "we are. We're going to be giving her up for adoption, though."

"Oh," said Veronica. She looked sad as she made to stand up. "Well, I'll get her then."

They dismantled the crib and the playpen and put it in the trunk with some trouble. The car seat got strapped into the back and Veronica handed Sam a few bags with Holly's essentials. "She still needs the bottle at night," she said. "Allison used to give her breast milk before she slept. Apparently, it's good to continue it till the child is two," Veronica said, shrugging. "Who knew? Anyway, for all other times, Holly uses the sippy cup. Allison was trying to switch her to the sippy cup at night too. If Holly cries too much, though, just stick to the bottle."

Holly was snoozing in Dean's arms, and her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. She was oblivious to how her life was about to change.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked Veronica. "She doesn't even know us. Her mother is suddenly missing. She could get really scared. I don't know if this is a good idea."

"She'll get used to you," Veronica replied. "She's a friendly child."

"You want any kids?" Dean asked her suddenly, his voice soft as he held the child safely.

Veronica looked up at him, bewildered. "Well, not now, but yeah…"

"Tell your boyfriend that," he said. "He can't always make you get rid of kids so easily — he should know that." When Veronica blushed, he continued, "You're doing this because he said so, aren't you? He doesn't want the distraction of a child in your marvellous bedroom life?"

Sam looked from Dean to Veronica, wondering how his brother had figured this out. Veronica let out a breath. "He's just not ready—"

"Well, whatever his excuse, both of you have just completely changed the life of a kid without batting an eyelid. You'd better hope for your sake that this kid can adapt well. Because if she can't — it's on you." He did not say anything else as he bent down and placed Holly in her car seat, before strapping her in gently.

**~o~**

"Will she stop?!"

The air in the motel room was filled with the sound of screeching wails, courtesy of a two-and-a-half-foot-long human being, who was intent on showing her disapproval at the absence of her mother, and the fact that she had woken up amongst strangers.

Holly's hands were curled into fists and her face was scrunched up, as warm tears streamed down her cheeks. "Mommyyy!" she bawled again, coughing and sniffling along with it, to express her anger and grief at the situation. Dean rocked her softly, patting her back, before glaring at his brother.

"I'm trying, Sam. I can't help it if your kid turned out exactly like you — cranky."

Sam seemed to cringe. "I wasn't cranky."

"Says you. Me and dad were the ones who had to put up with it."

"Dad and _I_ ," Sam corrected him irately.

Dean blinked. "Wow. God, I hope she doesn't become an annoying geek like you."

Sam flipped him off. Dean made a face. "Gonna teach your daughter some great manners like that, Sammy?"

"She isn't looking," Sam said, over Holly's wails. "And she isn't my daughter." Dean watched him secure his gun in the waistband of his jeans, as Holly bawled on. He patted her back some more.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, "it's okay. We're not gonna hurt ya." Holly only continued to cry.

"As if she understands that," Sam scoffed.

"Kids are way smarter than you think. Well, except for you. You were one dumb baby."

Sam seemed to be controlling the urge to stick his tongue out as he reached for the doorknob. "Take care of her," he said to Dean.

"You sure you can deal with this shifter by yourself?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Sam shrugged.

The previous night, they'd realised that only one of them could go hunting. Since Dean had significantly more experience with children than Sam, he had reluctantly agreed to stay in charge of Holly while Sam tookcare of the shifter.

Holly had slept not only through the car ride but also through the night, and then she had woken up early, sobbing away for her mother. With his heart breaking into a million pieces, Dean had taken her and held her. He had tried everything that had worked on Sam, including warm milk and lullabies, but Holly was a more stubborn version of his brother. She wouldn't accept any of it, and she wouldn't stop crying either.

Sam stepped out of the room and waved goodbye to Dean, before setting off into the cool morning air. Dean shut the door behind his brother, feeling Holly's tears on his shirt. He sat on the bed and placed Holly on his lap. Tiny fists clutched at his shirt, and Dean pulled her small body close. "It's okay… calm down…" He began to bounce her, but that didn't help anything.

Holly looked up at him, lips still trembling and eyes still spilling over with tears. "W-Wan' M-M-M'mmy…"

"I know," Dean soothed her, "I know." Sighing, he ran a hand over Holly's cheeks, wiping away the tears. "You're making a mess of yourself there," he said. She sniffled, tears continuing to dampen her face. Dean awkwardly lifted her back up, cupped her neck, and rested her head on his shoulder. "Wanna sleep?"

Holly sniffled, the wails growing a little quiet. Dean rubbed her back. "That's it. Go to sleep. It's going to be all right." He didn't know how to tell the child that she had no choice, that her whole life had just changed drastically, and that her mother was never coming back.

"M-Mmommy?" Holly enquired in a trembling voice. She sounded tired. Dean could remember — his childish memories were vague and in shreds, but he remembered when Sam would throw his stubborn tantrums, and then get tired and take a nap. He'd wake up cheerful after that, having forgotten his woes while he slept. Dean wondered if Holly had taken after her father.

"Mommy?" Holly asked again, and Dean could barely hear her. He knew then that another round of waterworks was around the corner if he didn't do something soon.

"She'll come. She'll come back to see you, okay?" he lied, shutting his eyes as he licked his lips. "Don't cry," he added, when Holly began to sniffle.

"T-T-Tmow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow," Dean agreed, assuming that it was what she had meant. At least she'd keep quiet for a day if he played along, and tomorrow, he would make it Sam's job to take care of his progeny and console her during those fierce cranky spells. Dean, on the other hand, would do the easier job of trying to look for a good home that could adopt Holly.

He pulled away from her, and took a look at her face. She had inherited Sam's eyes — exactly Sam's eyes. They were long, and slanting, and they were the same _stupid_ colour too (really, were they blue, or were they green, or were they hazel?) — except, the colour wasn't stupid when it came to Holly. It was adorable.

Holly yawned. Dean pushed away ringlets of dark hair from her face. "Do you sleep a lot?"

"Jo-jo," Holly replied, as her eyes drooped.

"Well, whatever that means," he said, letting her lie down on his lap and patting her small chest. "Go to sleep now."

Her eyelids fluttered with fatigue and she gave Dean a tired grin, exposing twin dimples on her cheeks, before shutting her eyes.

He sighed. The eyes, the dimples, the stubborn crankiness… they had a mini, female Sam in their hands. This was going to be hard. Dean just hoped that Holly would get adopted soon so he and Sam could move on with their lives.

**~o~**

Sam consulted his map as he stood outside the entrance to the sewers. There had been no activity from the shape-shifter in the last two days, while he was busy sorting out his past and waiting for the results of the paternity test. That didn't mean that he and Dean hadn't gone down to the sewer lines to try and track down the creature. They had just been unsuccessful at finding it. This was the third consecutive day of searching, and as Sam tucked his map into his pocket he promised himself that come hell or high water, he'd kill the thing today.

He looked around, making sure no one was watching him, and opened the manhole before shining his flashlight in and locating the rusty ladder. He checked his waistband for the gun, and patted at the silver knife in his coat pocket. Then he started to make his descent into the sewer, slowly but surely, with the torch held between his teeth. Once inside, he searched about, tiptoeing his way through the maze of sewer systems, until he finally found some of the vile goo that the shape-shifter had shed.

He found the creature a while later in a dirty spot where it had built its home. The area reeked of moisture, and moss decorated the dank walls. Sam hid for a while, watching the shifter eat what looked like a rat. It held the form of a man at the moment. Sam stayed where he was, well-hidden — until the creature sensed his presence, spun around, and attacked him.

Sam barely had time to get on guard and block the jab to his jaw. He landed an upper cut on the creature. It reacted with a side kick. He shuffled, and dodged it by an inch. Then he raised his leg and planted a forceful kick on the monster's shin. It tripped and fell, and in that split second, Sam whipped out his gun and aimed two shots at its heart.

The silver bullets pierced through the shape-shifter's false skin while it tried to get up, and two thin streams of deep red blood spurted out as they hit its heart. The creature staggered, and its eyes rolled upwards before it crumpled to the floor. Sam wrinkled his nose at it as he put his gun back, and started to make his way back to the motel.

He sat in the car, pleased at how easy it had been to take the shifter down. And now… well, now would be the difficult part. _Holly_.

**So I'm not your biggest problem right now?** Lucifer piped up from the backseat. **Aw, Sam, you make me sad.**

"Shut up," Sam muttered under his breath.

**Oh! I'm flattered!**

 

 


	3. Bright Little Stars

# Three: Bright Little Stars

 

 

"You need to sterilise the nipples," Sam said, collecting the feeding equipment from the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied, as he peered at the boiling milk in the pot. "I sterilised them in the shower this morning. You?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother as he filled another pot with water and put the equipment in it. "You know," he said, "the CPS will probably take Holly away if they see where we're keeping her."

They had driven to Rufus's cabin right after the case with a screaming, cranky Holly, an irritated, sleep-deprived Sam and a very amused Dean. Holly had quickly figured out that Dean had made a false promise to her about her mother returning, and she refused to remain quiet after that. She voiced her displeasure during every waking hour, and neither Sam nor Dean knew how to calm her down effectively. They tried to give her toys, or to feed her. She usually kept quiet after that, and then she'd start wailing again in a few hours. This had been their constant for two days now.

"I know," Dean said, taking the milk down and taking the clean bottle while Sam sterilised the other one. "And I'm pretty sure she should start the sippy cup."

"Veronica did say that Allison was planning to switch," said Sam, watching the plastic bottle float as the water around it started to steam. He could see tiny air bubbles forming along the sides of the steel vessel, clear and perfectly round, and he watched them disappear slowly as the water prepared to start boiling.

Dean poured the milk into the bottle, closed it, and squirted some onto the back of his palm, before tasting it. Sam frowned at him. "You know an awful lot about taking care of kids."

"Yeah, well," said Dean, and then he turned pink. "Shut up." Tossing a washcloth over his shoulder, he peered into the sitting area, where Holly was sitting in her playpen with her plush rabbit. She was mercifully quiet. "Time to put the little loose firework to sleep," said Dean. Sam thought he saw a fond grin on his brother's face before he headed towards Holly.

Sam finished his work and stored away the clean equipment. Holly started sobbing again and Sam cringed, the sound annoyed him to no end. He and Dean were looking for good adoption agencies, but they had also spoken to some of their hunter colleagues to find out if they knew a non-hunter family that could informally adopt Holly, so that Sam and Dean wouldn't have to be exposed to the legal system again.

**Oh, Sam. Your life is just worthy of a soap opera. Now, if you listen to me—**

Sam ignored Lucifer and made his way to the living room, where Dean was trying to give Holly her milk. He had her seated in her crib, but she kept moving her face away.

"Come on," he said, clutching her little toes and shaking them gently. "Calm down, kiddo."

"N-No! Mmmooooooo'y!" Holly sobbed, tears flowing down her red cheeks as she refused to take her milk.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, but he offered no explanation. "But you're tired, right? You wanna sleep?"

"No j-jo-jo!" Holly said pushing away the bottle. Apparently, her word for sleeping was 'jo-jo'. It had taken Sam and Dean a day to figure that out. It was nothing compared to her extensive, babbly vocabulary, though. She spoke a few words in English and a lot more in gibberish.

"Yes jo-jo," Dean said. "Come on."

Holly turned away, crying even louder, and Dean sighed, looking at Sam with pleading eyes as he put the bottle aside. Sam shrugged. Holly's screeching was bringing on a massive headache and he didn't think he was getting any sleep tonight either. Not with Lucifer on one side, and Holly on the other.

Dean licked his lips, before washing a hand down his face. He turned back to Holly, and extended his arms towards her, nodding questioningly and waiting to see if she responded. Holly stopped crying suddenly and raised a pouty gaze towards Dean, eliciting a smile from Sam.

"Up?" Dean asked her. "We can go for a walk. Will you have your milk then?"

Holly's lips quivered as she raised a hand to rub her eyes. Dean bent forward and stopped her. "Hey, no rubbing your eyes, okay? Wanna go for the walk?"

"Otay," said Holly, as she clutched his hand and he smiled victoriously, lifting her up and easily adjusting her in his arms. Then he ran his sleeve over her cheeks, wiping away the tears. Dean picked up his jacket from the coat hanger, put it on while adjusting Holly on each arm and took another one, but draped it around Holly.

"It's cold out there," he said to Sam as he reached the door. "We should get her more stuff for the cold. Supplies too."

Sam nodded. "We'll go shopping tomorrow."

Dean looked at Sam before shutting the door behind him. "Get some sleep. You need it."

Sam nodded again, and watched Dean leave. He went over to the couch and slumped down, letting out a deep breath and shutting his eyes. There was complete silence in the cabin, except for the crackling of the fire behind him and Sam relaxed and let sleep take him. He was so, so tired, he could just…

**So, now that the little brat isn't here, you'll pay attention to me, right?**

Sam gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the voice as he crossed his arms and made himself more comfortable.

**Aw, come on, Sam, I'm bored!**

"Shut up," Sam said under his breath, screwing his eyes shut.

**And now you're talking to yourself.**

"No, I'm not," Sam muttered again.

**That's right. Talk to me.**

Sam snarled in anger and opened his eyes. He stood up from the couch. Walking to the coat hanger, he extracted his own jacket and put it on. He pocketed the keys after he exited the cabin and locked the door behind him.

The air was chilly outside and Sam put his hands inside his pockets as he set off to look for Dean and Holly. His breath rose up in a mist before him and he shrunk into himself, while walking swiftly. He knew that Dean wouldn't have gone far, and he walked fast, a little further, before locating them in a deserted park where Dean sat on a bench with Holly in his lap. Sam approached them, and Dean looked at him and smiled. "Hey!"

"Hey," said Sam, sitting beside Dean. He glanced at Holly, who was gazing at the stars with her mouth open. "She's quiet."

"Don't jinx it, Sammy," Dean warned him. Just then, Holly stopped looking at the stars and turned to Sam. Dean sighed. "She just got quiet."

Holly, however, pointed at the sky above them. "Shtaaaal!" she said happily.

Sam smiled at her. "Yeah! Stars! Smart girl!"

Holly giggled, displaying her dimples. Her eyes sparkled with happiness. She wasn't half as annoying when she was in a good mood, thought Sam, as he watched her gaze up at the sky again. Then she started bouncing in Dean's lap.

Dean raised his eyebrow at her. "What is it?"

"Mommy shtaal?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "She teach you about those?"

Holly shook her head and turned to Dean. "Why Mommy no? Mommy shtaal?"

Dean's jaw dropped for a split second, but he composed himself. "Who told you that?"

"Venca."

"Veronica?" Dean turned to Sam, disbelief in his eyes. "Son of a b—" he stopped himself just in time. Sam swallowed down his own shock. He had been told (by Dean, nonetheless), that children understood a lot more than they let on, but he hadn't banked on it.

A chilled breeze blew by and Dean huddled Holly closer in his jacket. There was utter silence again, but this time the only sound interrupting it was the chirping of the crickets. Holly kept looking at the sky, wonder written all over her features. She probably expected to see her mother's face there, and Sam decided not to think too much, because they had to give Holly up and he didn't want to get attached.

"Mommy shtaal," Holly muttered sadly, her eyes tearing up. _Crap_ , Sam thought, she was going to start crying again. Why did kids cry so much when they could talk? Babies only had one way of communicating, and Sam knew that, but children like Holly, who could speak didn't need to make everyone around them miserable by crying so much.

Dean noticed the impending waterworks too, for he started speaking again. "Hey," he told Holly. "You know what? Our mom is there too. With your mom. They'll find each other and come back real soon, okay? Don't worry about it." For some reason, Dean's words made a lump rise in Sam's throat. Holly was an annoying kid, but she definitely hadn't deserved to lose her mother.

Holly suddenly smiled and looked at Dean. "Otay! Tmow?"

"Sure!" Dean lied to her. The lump in Sam's throat grew bigger. It was so easy to lie to a child. But what would Holly go through, once she grew up and found out what had really happened to her mom?

"Okay, well," said Dean, cutting through Sam's thoughts as he lifted Holly from his lap and held her up. "Let's get you back to the cabin, kiddo. That's enough for one day. You're going to get Sammy all teary-eyed."

"Shut up," Sam chuckled, the weight lifting off his chest, but Holly looked at him and grinned. .

A small hand extended from Dean's jacket and soft fingers landed on Sam's big hand. "Ton, Fammy!" she said to him enthusiastically and Sam assumed she was asking him to come back to the cabin with her and Dean. Shocked, he looked down at Holly's pudgy palm. It felt so tiny, so delicate, it was unbelievable.

"Sure, Holly," he said. "I'm coming."

There was a moment of silence, before Dean burst into laughter. Sam smiled, chortling along, as Dean tried to catch his breath between peals of mirth. "Oh my—" he said, his chest heaving and shoulders shaking as he sputtered and laughed some more. "Oh my G-God, _Fammy_!"

"Shut up," Sam repeated. He turned to Holly. "And it's _Sam_."

**~o~**

Holly liked being held. Dean figured that out when she woke up cranky the next day, asking for her mother again, and he just picked her up and hugged her close, effectively quieting her down. They seemed to have reached some kind of a truce after the previous night. It was as if Sam, Dean and Holly had swapped a huge secret, because Holly definitely seemed to trust them more. Or maybe she was just getting used to them. Children adjusted to new situations pretty quickly — or so Sam heard.

They went supply shopping after breakfast. Holly was a non-fussy eater and she happily accepted the pancakes that Dean fed her, slurping up the orange juice from her sippy cup along with that. Sam wondered why she needed the bottle at night if she could use the sippy cup, but he reckoned it was a comfort thing. Dean trying to coax her to drink from the cup at night two days ago had yielded disastrous results.

"Hey, look at that!" Dean said, breaking Sam out of his reverie. Sam glanced at whatever Dean was gesturing towards, to see several baby slings, for infants as well as toddlers. He shook his head.

"She isn't going to be with us that long, Dean."

"Fine," Dean muttered, pushing the shopping cart further. "It might take a while to find someone to adopt her. You carry her around until then." He turned to Holly, who was leaping and toddling about, a few feet behind them. "Holly. Come here, kiddo. Don't get lost."

Holly grinned as she ran towards Dean, who picked her up and put her in the basket of the cart. A woman came by, wheeling her trolley and flashing a kind smile at the child, and then at Dean, who winked back at her.

Sam sighed. "I'm sure there's one of those in the stuff we got from her place, though. We need to unpack everything properly. And I think we should pick up a better quality one if we're buying something like that."

"Yeah. But if there isn't, you're gonna carry her around." Dean started rolling the trolley again, the wheels rattling against the tiled floor of the store. He picked up some diapers, warm clothes and socks for Holly as they visited section after section, figuring out what they'd need for her. Some of Holly's stuff from home — like her body wash and shampoo were almost all used up. Dean also picked up a rubber duck for a reason that Sam couldn't fathom.

"Try bathing her," Dean explained to Sam as they stood at the cash counter. "She's hyper. We need something that she can hold in her hands so that we don't get wet."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not—"

"Yeah, you are," Dean replied, pushing the cart ahead. "She's your responsibility too. And bathing kids is not complicated or anything, except you gotta be careful about the water temperature and how much you fill up the tub. You're gonna do it tomorrow."

"Deaa?" Holly piped up suddenly from her basket, where she'd been quietly humming all along.

Dean raised his eyebrows and frowned at Sam. "Did she just—?"

"Yeah she did," said Sam. "You get a nickname too, apparently."

"Huh," Dean shrugged, and smirked. "At least I'm not _Fammy_. You know, if I exchange the 'M's for 'N's—"

"Don't complete that sentence," Sam replied menacingly, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks. "I hate you," he added.

"I know, Fammy, I know."

"Deaaaa!" Holly quipped again, her voice a little whiney as large eyes turned up to him. He immediately diverted his attention from Sam's glare."What is it, kiddo?"

In reply, Holly's arms shot up and extended towards Dean.

"You want me to carry you, huh?" Dean asked her, fondly. "Come here," he said, bending over and picking her up. She put her arms around his neck and glanced at Sam, flashing all her pearly whites at him. Sam was instantly reminded of Dean grinning at him after pulling a prank, or doing something wrong. This was how Dean smiled when he felt all triumphant.

Holly seemed to have got her traits from the whole Winchester clan. And Sam couldn't help but smile at the thought.

**~o~**

Dean took a drink from his glass and he watched Sam screw his eyes shut and open them several times, as Sam's hand went to the suture scar on his palm from months ago. He frowned, took another sip, and put the flask down. He cleared his throat. "Sammy?"

Sam looked up and turned to him, breaking out of his reverie. "Hey."

They sat on the floor of the cabin, heads rested against the bunk beds while staring into the fire in silence. Sam had gone through a beer and a half, and Dean was on his second glass of Jack Daniels. They'd just come back half an hour ago from another walk with Holly. She seemed to be adjusting, since she had calmed a lot in just a day. She was still sad and disappointed that her mother hadn't turned up, though.

Currently, Dean tilted his head at Sam. "You okay?"

"I'm awesome," Sam replied tiredly, picking up his half-full beer and taking a swig. Sam's face looked pale in the dim light and the purple bags under his eyes stood out in stark contrast. Dean frowned."Have you slept at all?" he asked Sam. "In the last few days?"

"A little," came the reply. "There wasn't much I could do with…" Sam shrugged and tilted his head in Holly's direction.

Dean licked his lower lip and turned his attention to the crib, where Holly sat, leaning against the railing and sucking on her bottle of milk. She was moving her feet enthusiastically, while looking around her. Dean drank some more. "The sooner she gets adopted, the better it is for her, and for us. I found some cases that we could have taken up and we can't now. And then there's Dick." he sighed.

"I'm sorry," said Sam, shrugging.

Dean shook his head. "Not your fault, Sammy. And _I'm_ sorry. I know that if you could, you'd keep her. It's just our lives, man. We just can't get a kid involved."

Sam chuckled. "Don't be so sure. That I'd keep her, I mean."

"I just know that you would," Dean shrugged.

Sam didn't reply, as his eyes stared distantly at the fire. He blinked a few times, and pressed at his palm again. Dean sighed, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. This was getting worse and worse. Just then, there was a sound from the direction of the crib.

"Deaa?"

Dean put down his glass and looked at Holly, who held out an empty bottle to him. He stood up and went up to her, taking the bottle from her hand and bundling her up in his other arm. "Good girl," he encouraged. "You want more?"

"No," she said, and yawned. "Jo-jo."

"You can sleep after I brush your teeth, okay?"

"Otaaaay," she replied softly, eyes drooping with tiredness. Then she gestured towards Sam, who was still staring at the fire. "Fammy?"

Dean turned to Sam, who was blinking rapidly. "You want him to brush your teeth?" he asked Holly.

She nodded, and he set her on the floor. "Why don't you go and tell him that?"

"Otay," she agreed, as she began to toddle on tiny, socked feet. Dean followed her, arms crossed over his chest, and he watched her as she got down on a crouch beside Sam. Sam's legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles and Holly crawled onto his lap.

"Fammy?" she said, sitting on her haunches and supporting herself with tiny hands on his abdomen. Sam seemed to snap out of his reverie and he looked down, smiling softly.

"Hey, Holly!"

"She wants you to brush her teeth," Dean provided from the background, and the whole scene sent more warmth through him than a whole quart of Jack Daniels could have.

Sam looked at him unsurely. "I don't—"

"Just sit her on the stool near the sink and do it," Dean replied, turning to walk to the kitchen. "Call out for me if it gets too hard."

He turned on the faucet at the kitchen sink, smiling to himself. Holly was really starting to grow on him, and it had only been a couple of days. He just hoped that he wouldn't get attached enough to find it difficult to let her go when he had to. And he hoped, for Sam's sake, that Sam wouldn't either, though Sam was definitely doing a better job of holding his distance.

**~o~**

Sam hadn't expected the soft hands on his belly. In front of him, Lucifer grumbled and flickered off, and Sam looked down to see Holly sitting in his lap, while she used him to support herself. He smiled.

"Hey, Holly!"

Before he went into the kitchen, Dean explained to Sam how Holly wanted him, _Sam_ , to brush her teeth for her. Sam swept Holly into his arms and got up, pushing against the floor with his hand. She smelled of baby powder and milk, and squirmed a little in his grip, trying to make herself comfortable, and Sam wondered how Dean seemed to carry her so easily. He took her to the bathroom, grabbed the stool, and sat her on it. Then he reached for her tiny, soft brush, and squirted some bubble-gum toothpaste onto it.

Crouching down, he pushed his hair out of his eyes, and bared his teeth at her, indicating that she should do the same. She obeyed, and he started to brush slowly, carefully, watching the toothpaste froth over her tiny teeth. He went all the way to the molars, and asked her to open her mouth further, as he started to brush over the crowns. Then he picked up the glass from the sink and held it below her mouth, advising her to spit.

She spat the froth all over herself, and grinned widely with lips covered in white. "Holly," said Sam exasperatedly, putting the glass aside. "Why did you do that?"

"Heeeheeeeeeee," Holly responded, smiling mischievously. Sam reached for a towel, wet it, and cleaned around Holly's mouth. Then he brought the brush back to her mouth.

"Once again," he told her, and repeated the process, but this time, Holly was impatient. She whipped her head about and spat at all the wrong times, so that by the end, Sam's hair had some of the froth in it too. He sighed, and held her over the sink. "Let's rinse your mouth."

When he filled the glass with water and held it out to Holly she batted it away, causing it to fall to the floor and shatter. Sam tried not to get exasperated. Instead, he filled handfuls of water and held it to her mouth, and instructed her to rinse and spit. She spat all over Sam's sleeves again, and then on herself, and by the time she was done, Sam was tired, wet and annoyed. But he realised that Holly was tired too, when he carried her back to her crib. She rested her head on his shoulder, not squirming so much this time.

Dean was sitting with his whiskey again and he smirked at Sam. "Managed it, did you?"

Sam put a finger to his lips, and changed Holly. She was compliant, although she was yawning the whole time. When Holly was clean again, Sam lay her in her crib, taking care to put her rabbit beside her, and covered her with blankets.

"'Fammyyyyyy," she muttered sleepily, putting her thumb into her mouth.

"It's Sam," he replied, pulling the thumb out, causing her face to scrunch up.

"No" she insisted, putting the thumb back into her mouth. Her breaths evened out, and she was sleeping soundly within the next minute.

Dean drained the last of his whiskey and put the bottle aside as he picked up his glass and stood up. Sam scooped up his own beer bottle and followed Dean into the kitchen.

"Man, I don't even know why you bother correcting Holly," Dean said, scooping spaghetti into two plates with a fork and licking it clean as he came back to the table.

"About what?" Sam asked, seating himself. Lucifer's voice called out to him from a corner of his mind, and he resolved to ignore it.

" _Fammy_ ," Dean said. "You should know. She's _your_ daughter."

"Meaning?"

"The stubbornness has been inherited, Sammy," Dean replied, slurping in his noodles and coughing a little. "I hope you'll be more bearable, now that you got a taste of your own medicine."

Sam flipped him off.

**~o~**

Sam didn't sleep all night. He couldn't take any sleeping pills because he'd had beer, and then Lucifer wouldn't let him sleep at all. It was disastrous. His head pounded in protest, his eyes watered, and every time he tried to nap, he woke within minutes.

He sat beside Holly's crib throughout, watching her sleep. There was something calming about it, because she projected pure innocence and peace that Sam hadn't seen in a really long time. He wondered if keeping Holly for a few days would change him and Dean for good, because in just three days, it looked like they were changing. Dean was already drinking a little less because Dean might be an idiot, but he wasn't a dick to be drunk while he had to take care of a child. Their dad had done that, and it hadn't gone well.

Sam hadn't felt anything for Holly — not until she had rested her head on his shoulder while he'd carried her back after brushing her teeth. It had felt as if a load had lifted from his chest from just that single gesture. Also, he wouldn't forget how Lucifer had vanished the moment Holly had sat on Sam's lap.

The night went by and dawn crept impossibly close as Sam sat thinking. He had a daughter — a fucking kid — something he had dreamed of ever since he had met Jess, except he'd never had the opportunity. And now that he had Holly, he didn't know how to take care of her, and he didn't want her on his hands. He just couldn't handle her right now.

Life could be so cruel.

Dean woke up about five hours after he'd gone to bed and got back to stalking Dick on his laptop. Without Frank to help them, it was harder to keep track of Dick's movements, and Dean was getting more and more frustrated. Sam occupied himself with some chores. At around seven, Holly woke up.

Dean was already on his second glass of whiskey at that point, but Sam saw him ignore it the moment Holly sat up in her crib and called out for him. His brother's whole body language seemed to change as he went to the crib.

Later, Dean worked on Holly's breakfast as Sam hovered around. Holly was in the sitting area, in her playpen. Dean took out some oatmeal and looked at Sam. "Will you give her a bath today?"

Sam stopped what he was doing and pressed his lips together. "Dean, I don't know…"

"It's just as easy as brushing her teeth," said Dean. He rubbed a hand down her face. "Look, I just need a while more for some research on Dick, okay? Since that last case in Georgia, I haven't kept track of him and you know that if we're any closer to figuring out what that bastard wants…" he sighed, "I just… Bobby's dead, man. I gotta do something!"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "I know. _We_ will do something about it, Dean."

Dean nodded, and chuckled wistfully. "You know, if Bobby knew you had a kid, all because you didn't think of using a condom while you were soulless…" He stopped and went back to start on the oatmeal as Sam decided to ignore the lump in his throat, and walked over to the sitting area, to take Holly for her bath.

Neither Sam, nor Dean felt the slight draft of chilled air blow past them, and they certainly did not hear the soft words spoken from a beloved mouth.

_"… Idjits."_

Bobby stood by, watching Sam prepare for Holly's bath and wondering about the unbelievable things that had happened while he was away (dead). Remorse hit him on seeing his boys struggle because he wasn't there. He was dead, and the last thing they needed in their cluster fuck of a life was for him to be dead.

But he looked at the innocent soul that Sam was carrying in his arms, and hoped for all the wounds caused by his death to heal quickly. Because he knew from experience how raising children worked, and he knew that it could help his boys a lot. They probably thought they couldn't handle it now, but maybe this would help them along a little.

"Idjits," Bobby repeated fondly, his voice a whisper, before he unwillingly slipped into nothingness.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 


	4. Bathtub Babbles

# Four: Bathtub Babbles

 

 

 

Sam took care to keep the bathwater warm enough for Holly so it wouldn't burn her skin, but would make her comfortable anyway. "Just wash her like you'd wash the Impala," Dean had said, "except, remember that she's actually, you know, a kid. Be careful about soap getting into her eyes and all that. Don't leave her wet for too long."

That hadn't been a very helpful tip. The Impala was a strong, big muscle car. Holly was so small, so tiny, Sam was scared he'd harm her somehow if he got clumsy, and he might not exactly have paternal instincts towards the kid but he definitely didn't want to hurt her. Dean, however, assured Sam that he'd do just fine.

After he was confident enough that he wouldn't kill Holly, Sam had begun to run the bathwater. Apart from the temperature, he also took care of the depth of water in the tub, so it would be safe. It was bad enough that he was scared of the other ways he was capable of injuring Holly while performing this highly difficult task. Dean, however, didn't sympathise. He reminded Sam that he had given Sam baths when they were both kids, and Sam was still alive and well (kind of) — so it wasn't exactly rocket science.

Holly had worn baby pink Rapunzel onesie pyjamas to bed. Sam unzipped it carefully and got her out of it while they were in the sitting room before tossing it into the laundry bag that they had kept aside for Holly's stuff. Then he took her to the bathroom and got her off her diaper. Taking a deep breath, he lowered Holly into the water and gave her the rubber duck that they'd bought the previous day.

"Good?" he asked her tentatively as she sat down and squeezed the yellow duck between her tiny palms. The dim light over the tub flickered and Sam switched it off, letting the sunrays from the vent suffice for his task. They cast a soft glow over the room, blurring everything slightly around the edges, but Sam preferred it this way.

Meanwhile, Holly let go of the duck, flapping at the water with her hands so that specks and drops of it flew everywhere. Some of it got into Sam's eyes and, chuckling, he backed away a little. "Whoa! Hey, careful!"

She grinned up at him, the same Dean-grin with mischief dotting her expression and her dimples got deeper as she splashed some more. She kept squirming away from Sam's grip when he tried to hold her still to soap her, and Sam finally sat back, deciding to let her enjoy herself for a while. He watched her crawl around the tub, little knees propelling the shallow water forth as her hands beat against it repeatedly, high-pitched giggles issuing with each splash. For the next five minutes, Sam did nothing but observe.

He couldn't deny it — Holly was an adorable child, and he wished he still had that kind of innocence. He wished he could live for the moment and temporarily forget the fuck-load of problems that he and Dean were facing. If only he could overcome the huge losses that he and Dean had encountered only in a span of months, and the fact that the Leviathans were on their ass, and Lucifer and the wall and Dean's drinking and whatever the fuck was always their problem these days… if only he and Dean had more opportunities to smile — to laugh about something mundane, and to laugh until their stomachs ached, without a sad, deep pit inside them to remind them how pathetic their lives were, and to remind them how they shouldn't be happy.

_If only._

Sam pitied the fact that Holly would grow up some day and wonder about her mother. That she would know what death really was and the permanence of it. He wondered if she would remember him or Dean or her mother in a few years' time, and he wondered how she'd react if she found out. Would she hate her father and uncle, for giving her up because they weren't able to raise her? Because, as a team, Sam and Dean had done everything — including saving the world and taking down some big-time evil — but they couldn't do something as common as raising a child. It was kind of awful.

It only took a three-day experience for Sam to realise that being a parent wasn't easy. And that was when Dean did most of the work. Sam only occasionally changed diapers and cleaned and sterilised Holly's stuff. But people raised children everywhere, all the time: husbands and wives; young and old; single mothers; single fathers; hell, even older siblings. All kinds of people around the world were doing it right now, just as Sam was thinking about it. They didn't have to know to fight angels and demons and Leviathans to manage. So how exactly did they do it? How had Allison managed to raise Holly all by herself?

Sam pulled himself out of his thoughts and directed his attention to Holly. She was still playing about in the water and he decided to finish giving her the bath before Lucifer made an appearance or Holly caught a cold. He unwrapped the soap that they'd bought for her.

"Time to get clean," he said, waving it at her. This was the difficult part because he absolutely didn't know how to handle a slippery, hyperactive child and that was exactly what he was about to face in a moment. But Holly stopped moving and sat down in one place, looking up excitedly at him.

"Pash!" she said, shrieking with laughter, and he smiled back at her as he bent over and held her little shoulder, while beginning to soap her front. When he was done, he lathered up her back. She stayed where she was, but she still kept splashing water everywhere, laughing continually and wetting Sam in the process. He decided not to mind it too much. He was planning on taking a shower after he bathed her anyway.

"Fammyyyyyyyyyy!" Holly sang happily when he put the soap back in the dish and spread the lather on her arms. She took the duck in her hands and squeezed it at his face, squirting some more water from it, so that it caught his eyes again.

Sam stilled her with one hand and raised the other to his eyes, wiping away the water. "Becoming quite the shot, huh?" he said, mussing her hair. "Good, now, let me finish this, so you can go back to playing."

He helped her stand up so he could soap her legs. She cooed at the suds while he cleaned her and she chuckled when a huge bubble formed above her belly button. Looking down with huge, fascinated eyes, she popped the single soap bubble with her finger. "Boop!"

"You like bubbles, huh?" Sam asked her, as he continued his job. "We'll get you some bubble bath—" he stopped, because gosh, what was he saying? She wasn't going to stay that long. Holly distracted Sam from his thoughts by smearing a soapy trail across his cheek.

"Ooooooooo!" she said, pressing a tiny finger into his dimple when he smiled.

"It's a dimple," Sam explained to her when she drilled her soft finger in, still fascinated by it. He showed her his other cheek. "There's one here too," he told her.

"Imle!" Holly copied him happily, pressing her finger into the other one as well. "Fammy imle!"

"Yeah, and you know where you can find more?" he asked her.

"Deaa?" she asked him.

"Nah, he didn't get them," replied Sam. "Here, I'll show you." He took her hand and pressed her finger into her own dimple, first on one cheek, and then on the other. Holly was so ecstatic when she touched each one that she bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly, squealing in pleasure so that Sam had to hold her, making sure she wouldn't slip and fall.

"Imle! Imle!"

"Yeah, isn't that really cool?" Sam asked her. Instinctively, he reached for her belly and tickled her, making her burst into giggles.

"Fammyyyyy!" Holly shrieked, squirming and laughing uncontrollably, beating her palms against his as he held her tight with one hand and tickled her with the other. "Fammy noooooo!"

"Yes!" Sam replied in a fake, menacing voice as he sniggered away, watching her gasp for breath while he continued the tickling. She giggled again and again, holding on to him, her eyes shutting with mirth and Sam kept going until he heard a knock at the door.

"What's up with you two?" Dean asked, opening the door, just when Sam stopped tickling Holly. The child looked up at Dean, still giggling silently, tears of laughter making tepees out of her long eyelashes.

Dean's face brightened at the sight and he grinned, looking visibly amused. "Having fun, huh?" he said.

"Imle!" Holly said to him.

"Imle?"

"Well," Sam shrugged, making a smug face at Dean, "you don't have it, but Holly and I do."

"What, an _imle_?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever that is, I think I'll pass."

Sam turned back to Holly and winked at her, before he replied in a stage whisper, "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

When he looked back, Dean had crossed his arms, but he was still smiling. "Finish up quick, Sam," he said. "She'll get sick if she's wet too long."

"Yeah, sure," Sam replied to him. "We'll be done in a few." He grinned at Holly. "Won't we, Holly?"

"Imle!" replied the child and Dean let out a chuckle.

"Okay," said Dean. "I'll leave you both to it then."

Sam watched as Dean shut the door and Holly started to giggle again, but Sam put a finger to his mouth and winked. "Shhhhh!"

She parroted him, pressing a finger to her mouth whilst continuing to laugh quietly. Her eyes widened in excitement as Sam resumed bathing her, and he felt oddly light and different — like happiness he had never felt in his whole life. He hadn't laughed like this in a while and it felt good to be cheerful for once. It made him glad to have decided to bathe Holly.

When Sam was sure that he had cleaned Holly thoroughly, he poured water on her, washing away the soap. Now he needed to wash her face. "Close your eyes," he told her gently, touching her nose with a sudsy finger.

He was rewarded with another giggle from Holly. She wrinkled her nose, reaching a starfish-like palm to swipe at the tip, before shutting her eyes in obedience. Sam placed a washcloth over her eyes so soap wouldn't get in. After he had cleaned her cheeks and ears, he reached for the shampoo and tenderly rubbed it into her scalp, carding his fingers through her soft hair. He let her sit back down, watching the water ripple around her. "Keep your eyes shut, okay?" he told her.

"Otay," she said, splashing about for her duck, until she found it. "Kee-kee!" she squealed, squishing it.

"Given your duck a name, then?" Sam asked her.

She nodded. "Kee-kee!"

Sam continued to massage the shampoo into Holly's scalp, marvelling how delicate she was. He was still so scared of hurting her or breaking her… but he was almost finished now, and he knew he was doing just fine — more than fine, because she was actually happy. He yawned. He was getting tired. Maybe he could catch a few hours of sleep after his own shower.

The washcloth fell from Holly's eyes and a sudden start from her distracted Sam, just as his finger came in contact with something soft. Holly yelped. Sam stopped, taking his hand away, to watch Holly's hand fly up to her eye as she emitted a high-pitched scream. He realised then that he had poked her in the eye by-mistake. _Ah, fuck._

"Okay," Sam began, deciding to resolve the issue before it got worse, but Holly let go of the duck as tears collected in her eyes, starting to cry in earnest. She let out screeching bawls, face crumpling as she clutched her eye. Something rose inside of Sam — something that he didn't quite expect at that moment. It was an emotion laced with anger and regret. Anger at himself, and regret for not paying attention. Also, a third something bubbled up, that he did not want to accept to himself — affection.

"Shi – fuu…dge," Sam managed, while Holly tried to get up from the water. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," he apologised as he held Holly's shoulder to control her writhing. She screamed again, trying to get away from him but Sam kept his grip firm and turned on the shower to clean her up as swiftly as he could.

"Hey, hey, show me your eye, Holly," said Sam, rinsing away the soap and surprised at the words coming out of his mouth. Holly, however, refused to even look at him and continued to cry, making his heart sink. He pulled the plug on the drain and let the water circle away as he lifted Holly and turned around, sitting her on the stool from yesterday. He checked his nails — they were cut neatly, thank God, but he was worried. What if he had hurt her badly?

"Holly," Sam said gently, trying to take her hand in his but she turned away. He sighed, and caught her hand anyway, slowly pulling it away, so that she started to bawl even louder, if possible.

"Shhh," said Sam, cupping her cheek while she struggled. She kept whipping her face from side-to-side and Sam tightened his grip on her. He needed to check her eye and if she kept moving, she would get hurt again.

"Look at me," Sam said gently. "Look at me, Holly."

Reluctantly, she turned her gaze to him and he inspected her eye. It was bloodshot from the tears and crying, but there didn't seem any damage, at least for now. He let her go and watched as her lips quivered, eyes filling up again. "We'll keep a lookout for that," he said. He paused. "I'm sorry."

Holly pouted, giving him a pair of puppy-dog eyes that Sam had practised so much on Dean — he wasn't prepared for the effect they'd have on him. She let out a shaky breath and stopped crying as he patted her dry with the towel and wrapped her in it. "You're not mad at me, then, are you?" he asked her, when she still refused to meet his eyes.

She gave him a frown, edging on a glare which reminded Sam of his father. Sam laughed and cupped her cheeks, and on instinct, he pulled her towards himself, before kissing her forehead softly. When he broke away and saw her looking up at him, he smiled, but she didn't reciprocate it. He carried her out, listening to her quiet hiccups and sniffles and picked up a diaper as he took her to her crib. Dean wasn't in the dining or sitting area — so Sam assumed he'd gone out for a stroll, which he often did these days.

Sam clothed Holly and dried her hair thoroughly, before kneeling down in front of her. Her face was blotchy from the crying. "We good now?" Sam asked her.

Holly puckered her lips in reply.

"Sorry," he said, softly prodding her rotund belly. He wondered where Dean was — he could hear the birds and the general sounds of nature outside the cabin, but no jingle of keys, or leaves being crushed under boots, or the muffled footsteps of someone trudging up the wooden stairs outside. In the meantime, Holly put her little hands on her belly, where Sam had just prodded her, and looked away.

"Does your eye still hurt?" asked Sam, pushing back a curl of hair from Holly's forehead. He tilted his head and looked directly into her eyes, both of which looked all right.

Holly started to tear up again, chin trembling and Sam lifted her into his arms. "Aww, hey," he said, "I'm sorry, Holly!"

She wriggled in his grip, trying to get away, snuffling into his shoulder and pushing against him when he tried to cup her neck. "Mommy," she said in a low voice.

Sam sighed. He hadn't thought he had hurt her that badly, but apparently, he had. He didn't know what it was — whether it was something her mother would do to soothe her in circumstances like this, which he obviously didn't know to do, or if it was the fact that Holly had just remembered again that she was living amongst strangers. Whatever it was, it was probably for the best that Sam didn't have kids, then. He had managed to upset Holly in under an hour when she was left to his care. Clearly, he was not cut out for this.

"Mommy," Holly repeated, sniffling, and letting out a sob. She pushed against Sam's chest with her hands and he put her back in the crib, backing away from her after pulling up the railing. Holly started to wail again, much louder this time, and Sam wondered where the hell Dean was. This situation was getting far too uncomfortable for him to handle.

**Oh, Sam, you're such a sloppy mess right now. You think you beat _me_ , but you can't handle a two-foot-tall child. How pathetic is that?**

Sam shut his eyes as Lucifer made his appearance for the first time that day. God, he'd been having such a good time he had almost forgotten about all his other problems. Picking up his phone and ignoring Lucifer, who was copying Holly's shrill sobs, Sam dialled his brother's number. Dean picked up after two rings. _"Heya, Sammy,"_ he said, _"How's the little firecracker doing?"_

"Where are you?" Sam asked Dean desperately, ignoring the question.

_"What happened?"_

Sam paused as Holly and Lucifer screeched in unison. Reaching up to his palm, he pressed at his suture scar, but nothing happened. Lucifer was intent on wreaking havoc in Sam's head.

Dean seemed to hear the sobs too, for he let out a breath, causing a crackling sound to issue from the other side. _"What's it now?"_

Sam was thankful the cabin was isolated, or he was sure a couple of people would have come in to see if he was a child abuser by now. He swallowed. "I… I kinda fucked up the whole bath thing and now she wants her mom. Just come back, okay? She's getting really upset."

 _"Yeah, okay,"_ said Dean. _"I was just taking a walk nearby. I'll be back in five. You hang in there."_ He disconnected the call, but not before Sam caught muffled mutterings of 'little brothers and their offspring'. Sam grinned, but quickly stopped when Holly howled from the other side of the cabin. Lucifer copied her.

"Shut the fuck up," Sam snapped under his breath, at his fucking useless mind.

Lucifer stopped yelling. **You think that's going to stop me?** he chuckled.

"I don't care," Sam whispered, hardly hearing his own voice over Holly's bawling. "Just go away."

Lucifer shrugged and went and seated himself at the dining table, watching Sam as he flopped down on his bed and hid his eyes in his palms, fingers entangling with his hair, pulling at them so hard, that if he applied a little more strength, they'd probably come off.

Dean came back in four minutes (Sam counted, because a headache was already coming on) and the moment Dean had hung up his jacket, he went to the crib and scooped Holly into his arms as Sam got up from his place on the bed. The next second, though, Holly's arms were wrapped tightly around Dean's neck, and her legs circled his waist, latching on to him equally tightly, and she began to cry into Dean's neck, harder, if that was even possible. The whole sight reminded Sam of a little, distressed monkey clinging to its owner.

"Whoa!" Dean exclaimed, holding her closer. "What happened there?" He glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

"Mooooooy n-nnn sht-taaa!" Holly hiccupped, her voice muffled by Dean's neck. She hardly got the words out in between her sobs.

Sam went over to the kitchen and fixed himself a glass of whiskey. After putting the bottle away he pressed his lips to the cool rim of the glass, heaving a happy sigh as he took the first sip. Sam hadn't meant to pull a Dean and take a drink this early in the morning but he couldn't help it — the bitter liquid sliding down his oesophagus was making him feel really good right now. And Holly could go from cute to really annoying very, very quickly, especially when Lucifer showed up to supplement her crankiness.

Sam went back to his brother and his supposed daughter, whiskey glass in hand.

"Yeah, well," Dean was telling Holly, when Sam was back, "I told you, kiddo, she'll come, okay? Until then, you've just gotta stay with me and Sam. We'll take care of you."

"N-Noooo," Holly keened, calming a little. Abruptly, she pointed a pudgy little finger at Sam.

" _What_?" Dean asked her, not understanding the situation.

"She's saying that I hurt her, Dean," Sam said from the background, taking another sip of his drink.

Dean frowned at him as he started to bounce Holly. "What did you do?"

"My finger went into her eye while I was bathing her," Sam said. "It was a mistake."

Dean looked at him indifferently for a moment, as he stroked Holly's back. Then he held out a hand to Sam for the whiskey glass and took a sip when Sam obliged. He grimaced as he swallowed it down and gave the glass back to Sam.

"You owe me big time for this, dude," he said. "Soon as she gets adopted, we're settling the score. And the next time, for the love of God, just wear a f – effing condom." Dean sighed, and tilted his head towards Holly, whose face was still buried in his neck.

"There's not going to be a next time," Sam replied dryly. "And I'm not the only one who learned a life-lesson about knocking up random women this year."

Dean shuddered as he remembered Emma, and turned his attention to Holly. "Hey, kiddo," he said, "Sam didn't mean it, okay? Are you still hurting?"

"Fammy baaaaaad," Holly complained into Dean's shoulder.

Dean gazed up at Sam, and Sam raised his hands and shrugged. "I apologised. A lot." For some reason, his heart sank at Holly's words. He decided not to make too much out of it. He just drank down some more whiskey.

"He says he said sorry," Dean told Holly as she looked up at him, eyes still leaking tears. "What else should he do?"

Holly blinked as Dean began to wipe away her tears. "Come on," he said, "forgive him, kiddo. Sammy cries real easy, you know."

Sam was through his fourth sip of whiskey, which he spat back into the glass at Dean's words. Little, honey-coloured drops slid down the sides of the glass and Sam grimaced, looking away from it. Ugh, he'd have to throw it out now.

"Don't you, Sammy?" Dean was asking him, with a beseeching expression on his face which urged Sam to play along. "You're gonna cry if she doesn't say it's okay, right?"

"No—"

_"Sam."_

"Yeah," Sam replied in a low voice, gritting his teeth and glowering at Dean before Holly turned to look at him, surprise etching her tiny little face. The shock of discovering Sam's supposed emotional vulnerability seemed to have entirely stopped her tears. She swiped her hand across her nose and cheeks, spreading snot everywhere.

"Yeah," Sam repeated, trying to look as wretched as possible. "I think I'm gonna cry."

Dean nodded at him encouragingly. _Asshole_ , Sam thought. Dean turned back to the little child in his arms. "Tell him it's okay, Holly."

Holly obeyed him and raised a little, snotty hand to pat Sam's head when Dean brought her closer. "Fammy no cwy," she said sadly. "'Olly otay."

Sam nodded, fixing his eyes on the floorboards. "Thanks, Holly." He turned away, retrieved the whiskey glass and started to walk to the kitchen.

"I'll see if he's okay, all right, kiddo?" Sam heard Dean say as he took his glass to the sink and poured out the remainder of the drink.

"Kichie Fammy boo-boo," Holly suggested. Sam swallowed when he heard that. Oh God, this kid was hard-core.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Dean sounded as uncomfortable as Sam felt at the suggestion. Sam, in all honesty, couldn't remember having his sadness kissed away. Dean and Dad were more of the tough-love types, and there was no other way that Sam preferred it.

Meanwhile, he heard Dean approach him as he started to wash the whiskey glass, cascades of clear water falling on glass and sliding away to circle down the drain. Lucifer seemed to have gone away in the middle of all this and, since Holly was quiet now, Sam was utterly relieved.

"Still _crying_ , Sammy?" Dean asked when he was close enough, evidently trying to control his laughter. Sam glared up at him. "Don't cry," Dean continued. "And you can kiss your own… uh, _boo-boos_ or whatever, because I ain't kissing anything within ten miles of you."

"Go screw yourself, Dean," Sam told him as he finished washing the glass. He put it upside-down on the kitchen counter to dry, and rounded on his brother. "And what was the need for all of that?"

"All of what?"

"The – the—"

"Crying? Dude, chill, it's not like she's going to remember this throughout her life. This kind of shit calms kids down. And I didn't say nothing that wasn't true." Dean's eyes glinted as he smirked.

"Fuck off."

"Language, Sammy."

"She isn't listening."

"Yeah well," Dean glanced back at Holly, before turning his gaze back to Sam, "you could've at least done a better acting job."

Sam snorted. "Bite me."

"Ew," Dean responded. "Stop flirting. You're embarrassing me between all the kissing and biting." He turned to leave, and Sam chuckled to himself as he watched Dean approach Holly and pick her up from the crib.

"You wanna eat something?" Dean asked Holly. "I'm starving."

"Otay," Holly replied. "Fammy?"

"Yeah, he's all right," Dean said. "Come on, if you promise you'll eat everything on your plate, I'll tell you a story."

"Otay!"

Sam shook his head and headed over to help Dean start on breakfast watching his brother make oatmeal with Holly held in one arm. However, Sam couldn't prevent a small bubble of envy over how easy it was for Dean to manage Holly, when he, Sam, struggled so much with her. It was like Holly wasn't his daughter at all.

But he reminded himself maybe it was better this way. Because he really wasn't supposed to have a daughter. It was a good thing he had Dean, then.

Sam took a few eggs out of the egg carton and set them on the counter before getting a pan on the stove. He waited for the pan to heat up, while spreading some butter at the bottom. He thought of what it would have been like, had Jessica been alive. They'd definitely have had kids by now and they'd probably have settled down somewhere nice, in a house with the white picket fence and the ritual of kissing their children goodnight before they slept. The Apocalypse would have never happened and Sam and Dean's lives wouldn't have been this wreck.

The pan was hot enough. Instantly, Sam reached for an egg and cracked it on the side, and watching the thick, pearly albumen pour into the pan, followed by the yolk. The albumen transformed almost immediately from its translucent colour, into a milky white, solid layer.

It was a wonder, Sam thought, as he watched the egg, how life was such that one thing — just one thing could knock over a stack of dominos so quickly, it was hard to say that they were actually upright at some point. That was what Sam's life had come to. Who could look at him now, with his psychosis and his guns, living half a life in a broken-down cabin somewhere, and believe that Sam had actually been to one of the top schools in America on a full ride, after acing his SATs?

Dean finished making the oatmeal and transferred it into a bowl for Holly. Then he grabbed her sippy cup and poured some juice into it before sitting her at the highchair and putting everything on the table before her. "I'll be right back, okay?" he told her. Holly couldn't yet handle a spoon very well.

Sam lifted the fried egg off the pan and put it in a plate, reaching for another egg and cracking it in, while Dean came back to start frying bacon. Sam watched his brother through the corner of his eye, whilst tapping the handle of the spatula against the kitchen counter. Dean had his tongue between his teeth while he prodded the bacon with a fork, trying to determine if it was crunchy enough.

Sam thought of how Dean's life had been before everything had begun — all this crap about the Apocalypse, Sam's wall, Lucifer, and basically, before Dean went to Hell. Hunting was never easy, but it sure as hell had been easier than what it was now. Dean had lived a much simpler life, going through his days with easy hunts and booze and sex, and never looking back. However, if Dean hadn't come to seek Sam out to find their dad that night — if he hadn't come back for Sam when Jessica had died, their lives would have been a whole other story. Sam would have been utterly alone, and so would Dean. They'd never have found their surrogate father in Bobby. They'd never have met Cas, and they'd never have his friendship.

Sam knew that what Castiel had done to him was beyond wrong, but he was ready to forgive the angel — because he knew that Castiel had done what he had done in the illusion of doing the right thing. And how couldn't Sam relate to that? His whole life was now defined by a mistake he made after thinking that he was right — he had trusted Ruby. And he thought that if Dean had found it in himself to forgive Sam, Dean should forgive Castiel too, because Sam knew how much the angel meant to Dean. If Sam could pardon Castiel, so could Dean.

He finished the rest of the eggs in wordless silence, listening to the sizzle of cooking meat, and piled more eggs onto the two plates. Holly was humming to herself in her highchair when they returned with their bacon and eggs, and her eyes sparkled when Sam sat next to her. He smiled tentatively.

"Imle!" Holly responded, pointing a finger towards his dimples excitedly.

Dean had dipped a spoon into her oatmeal and he looked up, his eyes questioning. "Seriously, dude," he said to Sam, "what is she talking about?"

Sam grinned. "It's a secret, Dean."

Dean huffed and dug out some oatmeal, before bringing the spoon near Holly's mouth. "I'll tell you a story if you eat," Dean reminded Holly, when she started to turn her head away.

She opened her mouth immediately at Dean's words and Dean put the spoon in, watching her take in the oatmeal.

"Loly!" Holly said with her mouth full, spraying oatmeal all over her bib.

"Okay, but next time you wanna talk, swallow your food, all right?" said Dean, taking another spoonful of her breakfast. He began his story. "This one time," he glanced at Sam and winked, before turning back to Holly, "when Sam was six, he scraped his knee on the footpath. He had fallen off his bike…"

Sam felt the bubble of jealousy rise up in him again, as Dean continued the story from their childhood. It was weird, Sam thought, that he was the one who had wanted a wife and kids, but was awful around children in general. Dean, on the other hand, had never wanted to settle down, but he had a knack for this stuff.

Sam's life was full of ironies, but goddamn, if this wasn't the biggest one.

 

 

 

  
*******

 

 

 

 

 

  


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](http://winchesterpooja.livejournal.com/17177.html)

 

 


	5. Smoke on the Water

# Five: Smoke on the Water

 

"Toeee ta poooooollar, pie tutu pie."

Dean barely paid attention to Holly's babbling singing as tiny hands pulled at his close-cropped hair. He heard the snaps of cloth clips and hissed when he felt a few hairs get dislodged off his scalp, bringing sharp pain with them.

"What are you up to, munchkin?" he asked Holly calmly, trying to ignore the pain as she tugged at his hair. He was on the floor, his back rested against the couch while Holly sat on his shoulders. Her little legs crossed at their ankles, below his neck, to keep her balance while she played with his hair. The couch was right behind, so that even if Holly toppled, she'd fall back on the sofa.

Dean hissed again as Holly tugged at his hair. "Holly," he said gently, "what are you doing? It's hurting, kiddo."

Dean heard the plastic-y crackle of Holly's diaper as she moved on his shoulder. Suddenly, he felt something Holly's little, soft lips on the centre of his head, and something akin to warmth spread through him when he realised that Holly had kissed him. "Boo-boo?" she asked Dean, sounding scared.

He chuckled to himself and reached his hands up, pulling her off his shoulders, and bringing her down to his lap. She stared up at him with big eyes that looked guilty. Dean ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it. "No, kiddo, I'm good. What were you trying to do?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she pulled at his lapels and rested her head on his chest. "Wan' Mommy," she whispered sadly.

Dean cradled her head and shut his laptop, leaning back against the couch. It had been three weeks since they'd brought Holly to the cabin, and there was still no word from their hunter colleagues about the adoption. Sam and Dean had given up on the agencies because the legal problems were too many, and they didn't want Holly to get caught up in legalities along with them. They had given up on hunting for the time being, with Dean only keeping tabs on Dick Roman. Otherwise, all hunts were being passed on to other hunters because they couldn't risk Holly's life being in danger if they left her alone.

So far, Holly was adjusting well to her new life. Sam, the bastard, still kept his distance, leaving Dean to take care of Holly most of the time. This caused Dean and Holly to bond quicker and easier, and she now accepted her vegetables only when Dean fed her. She loved it when Dean called her 'munchkin' so the nickname stuck, although, it didn't have the same effect if Sam said it. Holly wanted to include Dean in her playing too, and all her anxieties and woes were addressed to him, rather than Sam. Dean was the one to put her to sleep and wake her up. He calmed her down when she got grumpy or irritable. He was even trying to get her to take her night-time milk from her sippy cup, and so far, she had agreed to it twice without a tantrum.

Sam and Dean took Holly for walks to the park. Sometimes, they took out the stroller and sometimes, Dean strapped her to himself on the sling. So many people had mistaken Sam and Dean for a gay couple now, that Dean didn't bother correcting them anymore. Well, people could think what they wanted to think. Dean had too many other things to worry about.

They also took Holly around in the Impala and she enjoyed car rides a lot. They never went too far, though, because the Impala couldn't be seen around much but Holly got cranky sometimes and these rides soothed her. She didn't get carsick, and she loved getting the wind in her face. She also giggled when Dean played his classic rock, and he was happy she'd inherited at least _something_ from her cool uncle.

Dean waited for Holly to let go of his lapels and watched as her little hands eased off him. There was a jiggle of keys outside the door and Dean turned, just in time to watch Sam enter the room with bags of grocery. "Hey," Sam said, putting the keys of the Impala on the table.

Dean eyed the bag, which had a six-pack peeking out of it. "Did you get pie?" he asked his brother.

Sam scratched his head as he walked across to his bed (he had the lower bunk, because of course, Dean had snagged the upper bunk). Sam took his time unlacing his shoes before replying. "Forgot."

Dean sighed. " _One thing_. One thing I ask you to — what?" he stopped abruptly when he caught Sam staring at him.

" _What_?" Dean asked him again, but Sam didn't stop staring. His jaw clenched.

There was a moment of silence while Sam's mouth opened once, and then shut, before he suddenly and inexplicably burst into laughter. Dean blinked and watched his brother double over, laughing in low wheezes, hands cupped over his mouth and eyes shut as strands of his hair fell over them. His chest heaved and his whole body shook violently.

Dean frowned as the wheezes grew louder and more open and suddenly, Sam was uncontrollable. Holly was watching Sam too. She gave Sam and Dean a glance each, before her face broke into a wide smile, and as abruptly as Sam, she also began to giggle.

Dean sat like that for a whole minute, holding Holly against him as he watched Sam laugh in a way that he hadn't laughed in years. His brother was going red now, giant feet pounding against the wooden floor while he enjoyed whatever it was that he was enjoying, whilst desperately swiping at his streaming eyes. Sam had a hand clutched to his side, and Dean wondered when he had seen Sam so happy last. He couldn't help but chortle along, as he listened to Sam's barks and Holly's squeals, while both of them amused themselves with whatever it was.

"Will you share with the class?" Dean asked Sam, when his brother's fit seemed to be subsiding.

Sam looked at him, eyes bloodshot, and he laughed again. "You don't … you… d-don't — _ha ha ha… oh God_ — know? Oh… God," he doubled over again, clutching at his stomach and vibrating with laughter as Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, it's getting creepy," he said seriously, wondering if Sam was drunk, after all.

Sam nodded in reply and straightened up, trying to control himself, panting and clutching at his side while dimples took permanent residence on his cheeks. He pushed his hair back, chuckled, and took a deep breath. Dean was reminded of blowing raspberries on baby Sammy's belly and watching him giggle for hours while he tried to catch his breath between peals of laughter.

"You…" Sam began, running his wrist across his eyes as he stopped laughing. He cleared his throat. "Your hair." It seemed to take him a lot of effort not to laugh again.

Dean reached for his hair. "What about my — OH!" Bunched together, held messily by clothespins were what seemed like…

"She's made ponytails," Sam said, lips quirking while he contained himself. Dean felt his head again, fingering the dozen or so strands in the clips. When Holly had pointed at the clothespins and asked to sit on his shoulder after that, Dean hadn't expected it to be for this. He knew that Holly was developmentally incapable of using scrunchies (thank God), but he didn't know that she could do this.

"Ah, fu…dge," Dean whispered. He looked at Holly, who was looking between him and Sam again, smiling widely. "What did you do, munchkin?"

"Mommy," she replied.

"I'm… I'm not your mommy. You know that, right?" Dean asked her.

"Mommy," she replied again.

Sam got up from his place, as he pulled out his phone. "I think she means her mother used to do that," he said, frowning at the screen. Suddenly, the camera was facing Dean. "Say cheese," Sam said gleefully and there was a flash before Dean could react. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. Revenge was in order.

Dean glanced at his watch and realised that it was time for Holly's bedtime milk. He was going to try to convince her to use the sippy cup again and maybe he could have his revenge just now, if Holly was in one of her better moods, and she did indeed look like she was in a good mood. He just hoped that Holly would comply, though.

"Toeee ta pooollar," Holly began to sing again as Dean stood up from his chair, holding her to his hip so that he could warm up some milk for her. Sam came to the kitchen with Dean.

"What's she singing?" Sam asked him, bewildered.

"Hell if I know," Dean muttered, as he looked for her sippy cup. "Sippy cup, munchkin?" he asked Holly.

"No!" she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Hey, come on," he said, hoisting her up so that she bounced in his arm. She giggled. Dean winked at her and continued to talk. It was time for revenge.

"If you drink from your sippy cup today," he said to Holly, "you can play with Sammy's hair. That will be easier, and more fun than mine. His hair is better, see?" Dean reached forward and flicked Sam's hair, earning himself a bitch-face. Holly leaned forward too, and touched Sam's hair.

"Oooooooo!" she said, her eyes widening in awe.

"Good, right?" Dean said to her. "So. Sippy cup? Do we have a deal?"

"Otay!" Holly agreed.

Dean took her in both his arms and held her out to Sam, who accepted her very reluctantly. Dean removed the clothespins (the ones that hadn't fallen off already) from his own hair and handed them to Holly. While Dean smoothed down his abused strands, Holly grinned widely at Sam and hugged his neck while Sam looked at Dean menacingly.

"Fuck you," he mouthed, making Dean laugh out loud.

"Aw, you too, Sammy, you too," Dean replied. "Consider it revenge." This had worked out beautifully. He'd sure as hell take a couple of pictures of Sam in those ponytails now.

Holly began to hum the mysterious song again as Sam carried her to the bed, where she could sit while he sat on the floor to let her play with his hair. Dean thought about what she was singing while he watched the milk steam for a bit, before finally understanding what Holly meant. It was _Smoke on the Water_ , the Deep Purple song. Oh. Now he knew why it all sounded so familiar.

Dean realised two things at that point. First, he was definitely a good influence on Holly. Second, they needed to get her some of those baby rhyme cassettes or DVDs or whatever, because whoever adopted her would be horrified if she sang Zeppelin and Deep Purple right away. The Winchester crazy definitely needed to be hidden.

Huh, he'd just thought of Holly as a Winchester.

 

 

 

**~o~**

 

 

In the weeks that went by, Sam wasn't sure if he was supposed to be jealous of Dean's ability to deal with Holly. Well, to be fair, Sam was keeping his distance from Holly because they had to give her up anyway and it wouldn't help to get attached and then go through the pain of losing her. Sam had enough on his plate already. However, it was saying something that Holly was closer to her uncle than her own father.

Sam wondered if Dean was getting attached to Holly — because it very much seemed so, and it was not a good thing. However, someone had to take care of Holly and make sure that the small part of her childhood that Sam and Dean had in their hands didn't suck — because both Sam and Dean knew what a sucky childhood was like, and they didn't need more people to experience it.

Sam remembered the day that Holly had managed to make about five ponytails out of his hair, only to have Dean take numerous pictures and promise blackmail. He hadn't been pissed off at Holly. He had thought he'd be annoyed, but he was okay with it. He didn't know why. It was probably the sense of belonging that Holly displayed with him and Dean — the comfort she seemed to feel amongst them. Sam somehow liked making Holly feel comfortable and at home and sometimes, he wondered fearfully if these were some paternal instincts acting up, but they weren't. Holly was a child — someone Sam wanted to protect and keep happy and it was natural to feel this way.

The hiss from the milk pot drew Sam out of his reverie. He watched the liquid rise inside the pot, and he turned off the burner just as the milk kissed the vessel's brim and went back down, leaving behind a white trail of droplets. Behind Sam, Holly coughed from her crib and he turned around to see her curled up against her bunny while she sucked her thumb tiredly.

Holly had been running a cold for a day now. She was congested and feverish and Dean had applied some VapoRub on her chest before going out to the nearest Walgreens for children's Tylenol. Holly was coughing a little wet ever since, and Sam had called Dean about it, after which both of them had decided to take Holly to the clinic if it got worse.

When the milk had cooled down enough, Sam poured it in the bottle. After the ritual of squirting it on his wrist and tasting it, Sam took the bottle in his hands and headed towards the crib. Holly coughed again as he lifted her off the cot.

She whined and opened her eyes blearily as Sam sat down on the couch and held her on his lap. Immediately, she sagged against his chest and shut her eyes again.

"Hey, no," Sam said to her, touching her cheek with his thumb. "You gotta have this milk, okay?"

"Deaaa?" she whispered, her voice nasal. A drop of snot clung to her columella, between her nostrils, as she sniffed and Sam reached for a Kleenex at the table, pulling a tissue out and wiping away the snot. He tossed the soiled tissue aside and took out another. "Blow," he told Holly, holding it to her nose.

She didn't know how to do that. She just looked up at Sam with glazed eyes, and he sighed, patting her nose dry and taking the tissue away. He felt her forehead with the back of his palm. She was quite warm. Picking up the bottle, Sam offered it to her. Dean had told him not to give her the sippy cup tonight because they didn't need her to get cranky in her sickness.

Holly pushed away the bottle and rested against Sam's chest as she coughed again. This time, it came in a fit. Sam wasn't sure what to do at first as Holly shook in his arms, bending forward with hacking coughs, her face going red as she gripped his shirt. He placed a hand on her back and rubbed it, waiting for it to pass.

The fit stopped, but not before Holly let out an almighty gag, causing her eyes to tear up. Instantly, she began to wail and Sam held her closer, patting her back as she cried. "It's okay, it's okay," he said. "You're okay."

"Deeaaaaaaaa," Holly said in a weak voice before she began to cough again and Sam pulled her closer, waiting for the spine-wracking spasms to end, cupping his hand beneath her mouth when she gagged unproductively again. The second fit only made her cry more. Sam couldn't help but sympathise. Bad colds could kick even Dean's sturdy ass sometimes, and Holly was just a kid.

"You gonna throw up?" he asked her, keeping his hand cupped below her chin but she didn't reply to his question — probably because she didn't know what he was asking. Sam picked up a tissue and wiped at her face, taking away the tears and the fresh snot. "Dean will be here before you know it, okay?" he said, trying to remain calm. "Don't cry. You wanna go out for a walk?"

"Yoooooo," Holly whined in between sniffles and hiccups, hand going to pull at her ear. She coughed and Sam patted her back.

"Take it easy," he said softly. He held her to himself and hugged her. He didn't care if he got puked on — he just wanted Holly to feel better because seeing her miserable was just awful. He wished he could help her in some way as he stood up from the couch and walked around, rocking Holly slowly and trying to get her to sleep.

She didn't sleep. She kept tugging at her ear and crying and Sam was at his wits' end by the time Dean was home. Sam walked to the door as soon as he heard Dean's footsteps outside and grabbed his jacket, stopping short when Dean entered with a plastic bag and a smile. "Hey, munch—"

Sam cut across him. "Dean, I think she needs the hospital."

"What?" Dean asked him, his expression changing into one of alarm, as he dropped the bag and rushed towards them. "What's wrong?"

"She's coughing a lot. And crying."

"Kids do that, Sam, give her here," said Dean, raising his arms to receive her. Holly saw that and immediately squirmed in Sam's grip, reaching towards Dean. Sam just held her closer, at which Holly cried more.

"Give her here, Sam," Dean reiterated agitatedly. "Let me have a look."

"She might be worse than we thought," said Sam.

"No, she isn't. It's a cold and she doesn't know how to handle it," Dean replied calmly. He gestured for Sam to hand her over. "And anyway, since when have you been so big on getting all cuddly with her? I'll handle her." He pulled away his jacket and tossed it on the couch.

Sam didn't want to let go. But he did, and Dean saw the reluctance in his face. "Dude, what happened in the half-hour that I wasn't here?" he asked Sam, taking Holly and feeling her forehead.

"Nothing. It's just… she's really small, Dean," Sam admitted to him. "She's been crying for a really long time and she was coughing so much and gagging and… and I kinda feel bad that she's going through this."

Dean laughed as he rocked Holly. "Don't worry about it. Kids usually go the whole nine yards when they get sick. You just gotta take care of them." He bounced Holly some more and she quietened a little, tugged at her ear again and rested her head on Dean's shoulder. "But I see the daddy instincts are kicking in, Sammy," he said.

"It's nothing like that," Sam replied as he cringed a little bit. "And she's pulling at her ear a lot. Think that's normal too?"

Dean frowned. "What?" He turned towards Holly, who whimpered, and yanked at her ear. Dean pressed his lips together. "Huh. That wasn't there a while ago."

"Ear infection?"

Dean nodded as he went back for his jacket. "Think so. And if that's so, she needs a doctor."

Sam couldn't help but notice the slight trace of worry in Dean's voice as he said it. And he couldn't stop himself from feeling it either.

**~o~**

They decided to take the Impala to the ER. It was too late to take a clinic appointment, or to arrange for a different car. Dean wrapped Holly tight in warm clothes and a blanket and held her close as he and Sam headed to the car. He opened the backseat, but not before he noticed Sam holding out his arms for Holly.

"You drive," said Sam. "I'll keep her."

Dean frowned. "No. She's more comfortable with me, Sam. Do you want her to cry more?"

"Dean," Sam breathed, looking at Holly as she slept tiredly in his brother's arms, "let me do this. Please."

Dean shook his head. "No. You're driving. And that's final." He didn't leave any room for more arguments as he opened the backdoor of the Impala and slid in, gesturing to Sam to get behind the wheel.

"What's it to you anyway?" Dean asked Sam as he watched Sam slide into the driver's seat. "It's not like you're particularly interested in keeping her." He paused. "Are you?"

"No," Sam said, rubbing a finger between his eyebrows as he put the key in the ignition and started the Impala, beginning to reverse it from the shed. "It's just…" he couldn't explain it.

"Daddy instincts," Dean snorted from the backseat.

"No."

"Yeah, whatever. What happened in the hour that I was gone anyway? When did you get this way about Holly?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. The headlamps of the car illuminated dark asphalt, the brightness cutting through Sam's vision. A dull throb started at his forehead, and he blinked. "You've been best buddies with her lately, though," he said. "You sure you're gonna be okay when she has to go?"

"Someone's gotta take care of the kid, Sam," said Dean, and there was something odd about his voice. "And you know what?" he continued, "I've done this stuff once, and I can do it again. So what if she gets adopted later on? Nothing's permanent in our lives anyway." His voice was bitter.

Sam bit his lip. "Are you comparing me with Dad?"

"No," said Dean, and he sounded angry this time. "Because even Dad was better than this with you. He might have screwed up, but never did he neglect you or completely wash his hands off his responsibilities."

"Which is why you had to practically _raise_ me," Sam added sarcastically.

"I did that when I was older, Sam. When I could do it. I didn't start raising you from the day Mom died. Dad did do his job. He might have been beside himself with grief, but he did it."

"You're always supporting Dad."

"You can think of it in any way you like," Dean snapped back. "But the truth remains that both you and dad really couldn't fucking wait for someone else to handle your kids because apparently, they were too much of a distraction for you." He snorted. "And you wanted a 'normal life', right, Sam?"

Anger rose up inside Sam at Dean's accusation, but subsided immediately when he thought about what his brother had said. There was silence. Sam concentrated on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, as the other rubbed at his temple. He remembered how he had been treating Holly, ever since he had met her — how he hadn't been allowing her to get too close. Was he really worse than their father?

Well, the truth was, Sam just wanted to keep himself away from any more grief. He knew that someday, he'd have to say goodbye to Holly, but it wasn't that with their dad. Sam and Dean weren't temporary guests in John Winchester's life. But if Sam had to say goodbye to one more person forever, he was pretty sure he'd go insane.

He glanced at Dean in the rear-view mirror, wondering how Dean had the strength to do what he was doing after losing two of the most important people in his life in such a short span of time. And that was after Lisa and Ben. After losing Sam several times before that. Yet, Dean managed to remain considerate, and he managed to love Holly just as he should have. He was doing it despite knowing about the devastation that was on its way. It was unbelievable how much Dean managed to care about people who mattered, despite the crap that life always gave him.

They reached the ER in the next five minutes and Holly was examined by an ENT, who diagnosed her with acute otitis media, a middle ear infection. He prescribed antibiotic drops to help clear the infection and instructed not to let water enter Holly's ears for the next few days. After scheduling a second visit with the ENT, Sam and Dean left the hospital with Holly snoozing in Dean's arms. Sam did not object when Dean got into the backseat with Holly again.

The first antibiotic drops were to be given as soon as possible, so once they were in the cabin Dean placed Holly in the cot and turned her to her side, so that he could put the drops. The first antibiotic was easy, but then Holly woke up before Dean could get the second one in her. She squirmed and cried, upset about the discomfort but Sam held her firmly as Dean administered the second antibiotic into Holly's ear.

The next few days were spent being careful about what Holly ate and drank, her medicines, and about how she was bathed. Sam bathed her again and was careful not to hurt her this time. He made sure the earplugs were intact before putting a shower cap for Holly, so there wouldn't be any chance of water getting into her ear. She hated getting the drops in her ear, but Dean made several promises of bedtime stories before subjecting her to the drops so that she would listen. And it worked each time, making Sam marvel at his brother's capability to interact with children.

By the time they had to take Holly for another appointment, the infection had cleared up.

Sam thought about a lot of things in the days that followed. He watched Dean get along yet more with Holly, unafraid of what he might suffer later on, but just going with the moment. He saw the adoration in his brother's eyes for the only niece he had, and would probably ever have. Dean had lost the most — he had lost everything, and yet, he was not afraid. So when Sam was not any different from Dean in that respect, why was he worrying so much?

Days went by, the cold increasing as the temperature dropped, and weakly sunny mornings were greeted with Holly's babbles when she woke up. Dean would pick her up, throw on an apron and cook with her at his hip while she jabbered away to him in her gibberish. The bottles of whiskey began to vanish, and Bobby's flask was dry and empty. The sleeping pill bottles increased in quantity for Sam, though, as it got harder and harder to catch sleep with Lucifer around. Yet, sometimes, miraculously, Lucifer wouldn't show up for days, and Sam wondered if he was getting better after all.

Often, when he was having a good day, Sam would sleep in and Dean would let him. Once breakfast was ready, Dean would let Holly wake Sam up and she would pad across the room on miniature feet and painstakingly climb Sam's bed, only to sit on his stomach after that. And she would pat his face with her starfish hands, giggling and calling out to him, so that Sam opened his eyes to her dimples and sunray-kissed ringlets of hair.

Sam started to get more involved with Holly. He took equal part in taking care of her, and made sure that Dean didn't have to do most of the work. Holly didn't discriminate, and got comfortable with Sam in no time. The only difference, however, was that Sam still kept his emotional distance from Holly. He was very sure that his life didn't need any more hell than it already had, and he really liked Holly, but he took care not to get attached — not to feel too much. That was until a particular incident screwed it all over and made him go head-over-heels crazy for his daughter.

Holly's ENT had informed Sam and Dean of a few vaccines that Holly should have taken at eighteen months. When Dean had spoken to Veronica about it, she had said that Holly still had a couple of vaccines to take — her DPT and Hep-B shots. So they made an appointment at a paediatrician's clinic so that Holly could have her shots.

The way Dean handled Holly on the morning of the appointment, Sam was reminded of a beloved dog being given some final treats by its master on the day it was to be put down. Holly didn't smell a rat, though, and she enjoyed Dean's pampering. That was until they reached the clinic, when she sensed that something was off. She started to get uncomfortable as they took her into the room, and when the doctor rubbed spirit on her arm, all hell broke loose.

"No," Holly said, lips quivering, while the doctor loaded the syringe. She looked up at Dean tearfully. "Deaaaa, no."

Dean was sitting on the bed with her on his lap, and he ran his hand through her hair while Sam watched them from his chair. "It's for your own good," said Dean. "It's just a few minutes, okay?"

"Noo," Holly replied, beginning to writhe as tears filled her eyes. "Fammy," she said, knowing that Sam was sitting in an out-of-danger zone. She extended her arms towards Sam, pleading him to lift her. "Fammy!"

Sam felt like he was betraying Holly when he didn't get up from his seat to pick her up. The tears broke loose from her eyes and raced down her cheeks as she looked frantically between Dean and Sam. Her chin trembled. She sniffled, looking for someone who would let her escape, but she realised that there would be no one and let out a wail.

"Holly," Dean said gently, as the doctor came towards them, but in a sudden motion, Holly batted away the doctor's hand and tried to get out of Dean's grip.

"Deaaaa," she sobbed. "N-Nnnnooooo!" She struggled even more, pushing against Dean and the doctor's hands, not allowing the paediatrician to even come close to touching her.

"Hey, hey," Dean said, holding her down, when the doctor backed away a little and waited patiently for Holly to calm down. "Come on, munchkin," Dean continued, "it's going to be okay. We'll go out for a ride later on, okay? It's just a minute and it will be over."

"No, no," Holly began to jerk away each time the doctor came to her and finally, Dean folded her arms in his, letting the doctor give her the shot.

The moment the needle broke her skin, Holly let out a shriek. She began to struggle again but couldn't, with Dean's strong arms wrapping her. The doctor returned with the next injection and Holly wailed in earnest when she saw it.

Sam was reminded of a trapped animal trying pathetically to escape capture as Holly cried helplessly, coughing, tears running down her face in torrents. When the doctor gave her the second injection, her face promptly turned red, before scrunching up. Tears fell down thick and fast, and the sobs escalated to such a stage that they were now soundless. From Holly's face, Sam could see that she was still crying inconsolably, but there was no noise. His heart skipped a beat. Why was she crying like this?

The doctor withdrew his needle when he was done, backing away, as Holly doubled over, sobs still wracking her body. Sam could only hear the huge gasps as her little shoulders heaved and Dean immediately let her loose, turning her over and stroked her back gently. "Breathe, sweetie, come on. Breathe."

At that, Holly let out a loud, ear-piercing screech. She coughed and Dean bundled her in his arms, while he spoke to her in a soothing voice. "Hey, hey, it's over, munchkin, see, it's over." Sam watched them nervously from his place, trying to control himself from rushing over to Holly's side. He knew that it was best to let Dean handle this.

"Do you want a princess bandage?" the doctor asked helpfully as Dean tried to quieten her, bouncing her, planting kisses on her forehead, and rubbing her back. Holly didn't stop even then.

"Hey, do you?" Dean said, rocking the child, lifting her chin so he could meet eyes with her. "Do you want it, munchkin?"

Holly wailed and shook her head, turning to Sam, drool falling out of her mouth while tears still streamed unchecked down her little cheeks. "Fa'yyyyy!" she managed to sputter, raising a little hand towards Sam, opening and closing her palm alternatively. "Fa'yyyyy."

"Okay, you want Sammy? Come on," replied Dean as Sam got up from his place and held out his arms for her. As soon as Dean handed her over, Holly wrapped her arms and legs around Sam, just the way she had done it after the disastrous bath that Sam had given her all those weeks ago. The doctor looked apologetic as he handed Dean a lollipop to give to Holly. They left the clinic with Holly crying so loudly everyone was looking at them.

Sam hugged Holly tight as they headed to the car, cupping her neck lightly and muttering nonsense in her ear. Something inside him pained horribly to see her like this, even though he knew that Holly wasn't really hurt. He'd never seen children react to injections, but he didn't know that it could go this way. Yet, he felt angry and helpless because Holly was crying so badly, but there was nothing Sam could do to get her to feel better.

He got into the backseat with Holly this time and she clung to him, refusing to sit in her car seat. Sam let her hold on to him, feeling tiny fingers grip at his lapels, as though holding for dear life. Sam couldn't even get her into the car seat and Dean suggested they let it go, and that they would deal with it if the cops caught them. Ten minutes into the car ride, when Holly still wasn't crying any less, Sam realised he couldn't take it anymore.

Holding her under the armpits, he lifted her off his lap and held her at eye-level, watching her crumpled little face. Then he brought her close and kissed her forehead, and then her damp cheeks, tasting salty tears, before wiping them away with a gentle sweep of his hand over her face.

"It's going to be all right, Holly," he said, kissing her cheek again. "Those were for your own good, and it's over. As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you." He paused. "Okay?"

He could sense Dean press his lips together in the front, and his brother's hand tightened over the wheel. He remembered Dean saying those last few words — he could remember it so clearly, it was impossible that the last time Dean had said it was almost eight years ago. And he could recall Dean saying it when they were kids — when Sam was six and Dean was ten and Dean had cleaned the scrape on a very upset Sam's knee. Sam remembered Dean saying those words on his first hunt, and that particularly bad hunt when Sam was fifteen, and had woken up after almost losing his life to an injury.

It was clear as crystal, and Sam knew that Dean had meant every word. And Dean had said those things when he was in as much deep water as Sam — when he was scared he would lose his brother, or when he couldn't understand Sam's visions. The scrape on Sam's knee had been the only exception, but even then, it had helped Sam. It had taught him that falling down and getting hurt was a part of life, but that he was lucky, because he had an elder brother to help him up and clean his wounds each time.

And at that moment, Sam understood what a selfish asshole he had been. He had lost people in his life, and he had suffered enough but being an awful parent to an innocent child was no way of dealing with it. Nothing in his life was Holly's fault. If anything, the past month had been much better than much of Sam's life recently, all thanks to a mistake he had made one night with Allison — if that could really be called a 'mistake'.

Sam understood why Dean had been angry with him, and why Dean had expressed his irritation at their father. Sam and John had equally shitty excuses for doing what they did. Dean had never given an excuse for anything. He was always the most affected, the most burdened, and yet he put his heart into what he did. And really, Dean deserved much better people in his life than Sam, Cas, or their dad. Dean deserved so much better than what life had given him.

Holly had quietened a little as Sam lay her on his lap, his hand patting at her chest. He bent over and planted another kiss on her tiny nose, smoothing his hand over her closed eyes and her dark hair. "It's all right, baby," he said to her, and Dean turned around, just briefly, before reverting his attention to the road.

That evening, Sam watched Dean as he stood over Holly's crib, making sure she was asleep. Sam observed his brother as he tucked her in and followed Dean into the kitchen to help him start dinner. They didn't talk much, but Sam knew that Dean glanced at him occasionally, while Sam cut tomatoes and Dean peeled potatoes. Sam cleared his throat and braced himself for what he was going to say.

"Dean?"

Dean's fingers fumbled with the plastic handle of the potato peeler, and the wet, scraping sound stopped for a moment. "Hmm?"

"I think…" Sam looked into his brother's eyes, and took a deep breath. "I think we should keep Holly."

 

  
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](http://winchesterpooja.livejournal.com/20650.html)

 


	6. Her Little Rival

# Six: Her Little Rival

 

Dean looked at Sam as though he had just cracked a very bad joke. A single eyebrow arched, and surprise glowed through his green eyes as he put down his potato and his peeler. Silence followed his actions, except for the steady drip of water from the faucet. Sam reached out a hand to turn it off.

Finally, Dean spoke. "You've got to be kidding me," he said.

"No," Sam replied. "I'm serious."

"Well, then you've fucking lost it," said Dean, returning to the potato. His hand trembled slightly, and the vegetable slipped in his grip. He looked back at Sam. "You really mean it?"

"Yep," Sam replied. "I think we should keep her."

"And what about hunting?"

"We quit. Get honest day jobs—"

"And the Leviathans will stop eating people while we do that," Dean interrupted Sam sarcastically. "Right?"

Sam shrugged. "Not everything is our responsibility, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean asked him. "Then what about Dick Roman, huh? We don't owe Bobby that much?"

"Bobby will understand. Let's just leave it."

"But I don't want to leave it, okay?" said Dean. "And do you know what you're even saying? You do realise, right, that no matter what we do, we can't entirely get out of this life? That if we keep Holly with us, her life is in danger too? Hell, I'm already scared shitless that a fucking Leviathan or a dick angel might burst in through that door and take her. Is that what you want for her?"

Sam sighed. "No."

Dean nodded. "Then get that idea out of your head." He shut his eyes for a moment, and then went back to peeling the potato. Sam noticed that his hands were shaky, but he didn't bring it up..

Finally, it was Dean who broke the silence between them. "Sammy," he said, putting the last peeled potato in the vessel, "I know how you feel, man…"

Sam didn't look up at him. "No, you don't," he said in a low voice.

"I do," insisted Dean. "Ben was just like my kid. Hell, Holly is yours and I'm just her uncle but she's no different from my own kid. If we both had families like those normal people and I had kids of my own… well,, I wouldn't treat them any different from Holly. You asked me if I'll be okay when we'll have to let go of Holly? Honestly, I won't."

Sam looked into his brother's earnest eyes and shrugged. "We don't have to let her go."

"Sam, I can't keep saying it, okay," replied Dean. "Holly is not safe with us. There are a lot of things — she can't live under a false name all her life — do you want her brought up like we were?.

"She'd need school. We'd have to live in one place. And most importantly," he hesitated, "she needs a mom."

"We grew up without a mom, Dean," said Sam quietly.

Dean snorted. "And look how great we turned out."

"I'll find someone — someone who will be ready to be a mom to Holly," Sam said weakly. "I'm bound to meet someone, someday. . ."

"And put her life in danger too?" Dean asked him gently.

"Are you saying I shouldn't have a family of my own?" Sam questioned his brother.

"No," said Dean. "I'm saying that we need to put at least the current shitstorm to rest before we can start going and falling in love and buying houses with backyards."

"And when does it ever end?" Sam retorted, crossing his arms at his chest. "When has it ever been quiet for us? We need to learn to live through this, Dean!"

Dean licked his lips and pressed them together. "Sammy. You know it doesn't work that way."

"So – so that means we just give up my child? Because it _might_ not work for me to find someone and settle down with a family, based on one of your theories?" Sam burst out, gesturing to Holly's crib, where she mercifully continued to sleep.

Dean glared at him. "Do Lisa and Ben sound like a theory to you?"

"No! And there was no need for you to do what you did to them!" Sam said loudly.

"Keep your voice down," Dean replied, "you're going to wake her up."

"No, no," said Sam, "let her listen. And if she understands, let her. Because she should know. She should know that the person she's come to adore so much isn't even taking care of her willingly. And since when have we started leaving family behind, Dean? Since when have we been this selfish?"

"We're not being selfish."

"We are!" said Sam.

"No," Dean insisted, and he looked hurt. "Because fuck you, Sam, you just saw her crying when she got her shots, and decided you want to be her daddy all of a sudden. You have no fucking idea—"

"About what?" Sam asked Dean. " _What?_ Because I've been with her for as long as you have! You have taken care of her — I'll give you that — but you're a hunter. I can see you itching for a hunt every morning. I can see how you're reining in the impatience to be out there. You don't _want_ to take care of her, Dean. You're just doing it because you _have_ to."

"Yeah, but I'm at least doing that," Dean snapped at him. "You? What exactly have you been doing, Sam? Being Dad of the Year?" Sam watched as Dean's jaw clenched and suddenly, he pushed the potatoes away, turning around to leave the kitchen. In an instant he was at the coat hanger, collecting his jacket, and then at the door. But before stepping out, he turned to Sam.

"Just like I said, Sam," Dean said in a barely audible voice, "you and Dad? You're both the same person. Family's all good, so long as someone else takes care of it. In the end, you both just love to exert your veto power as dads and damn your kids' lives because that's what you _have_ to do." He gave Sam one last death glare before throwing on his jacket.

There was silence. Silence so deep, so thick, Sam could hear his own lungs pulling in breaths. Then, as the door began to shut behind Dean, Sam grabbed a glass from the counter and threw it at the wooden wall. It shattered, and tinkling sounds of fracturing glass reverberated in the night air, but Dean had already left.

"FUCK YOU!" Sam yelled, blood pounding in his ears and he knew Dean had heard it from the halt in the footsteps outside, but Dean didn't retort or return. Holly started to cry, having woken up from the sounds, and Sam rushed to his daughter's side. He'd show Dean, he thought, as he readied himself to soothe Holly. He'd prove to him that he was much better than their father.

**~o~**

_Sam didn't get to do this_. _Dammit, Sam didn't get to do this,_ Dean thought, as he trudged over to the garden where he and Sam regularly took Holly. He could see the last of the birds return to their nests as the sky became a velvety purple blanket with twinkling stars — _like a magic carpet_ , Dean observed. He could see the thin, smoky wisps of clouds trying to hide the moon, but failing. The whole view reminded him of the _Arabian Nights_ books he used to read to Sam. That was such a long time ago.

Dean thought about what Sam had said. He understood what Sam felt, even if Sam didn't think so. Sam had a remote chance at happiness after such a long time, and it was really unfair to tell him to let it go like this. But, like everything else in their lives, this was something they couldn't help. Dean hated that Sam had to make another sacrifice, but this was just how it was.

It was no use getting angry at Sam, he thought. It wasn't like they were about to give up Holly just now. This whole discussion could wait. And with Holly around, fighting wouldn't do her any good. Right now, Sam and Dean just needed to take care of her.

Dean puffed out a deep breath and headed back to the cabin. By the time he was back, a fine dusting of snow lined the streets and Dean could tell that a snowstorm was coming, just from the breeze. He got into the cabin quickly and shut the door behind him, just to see Sam look up from the kitchen counter, making soup for Holly. At the sight of Dean, he put down the ladle and cleared his throat.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Sam hoarsely.

Dean nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Yeah, we will."

**~o~**

**We could have had it aaaaaaaall,**

**Rollin' in the deeeeep!**

Sam groaned as he turned away from Lucifer, who was perched on the edge of his bed and trying to imitate Adele's throaty voice.

 **You had your soul insiiide my cage,** Lucifer continued, and Sam sat up abruptly, rubbing at his eyes and sighing.

 **What's the matter, Sam? My singing not good enough to put you to sleep?** Lucifer taunted. Sam ignored him and pressed his palms against the mattress of the bed, wondering what to do. He had taken the sleeping pills before lying down and he wasn't sure taking more was a safe option.

 **Maybe you should take them, Sam,** Lucifer said. **Think about it. Who cares whether you live or die? It won't make a difference. At the rate your big brother is pouring that whiskey down his gullet, he isn't going to have much of a liver in a few years anyway. Maybe you dying will just help him. He can end it and you—**

"Fuck off," Sam muttered.

**Aw, if only that would help. You do know that I'm a part of your own mind, right? Your madness? And you think you can raise your child like _this_. Honestly, I haven't seen anyone quite as stupid as you.**

"Just shut. The fuck. Up." Sam breathed, clenching his jaw. He shut his eyes and entangled his hands in his hair, pulling at the strands and praying for his hallucination to subside so that he could go back to sleep. He could hear a low moaning from the wind outside and the view from the gap between the curtains revealed snowflakes swirling about outside. Dean had been right — there was a blizzard.

Sam got up from the bed and took his blanket along with him, pulling it around himself as he walked to the window beside Holly's crib. He wiped the condensation from the glass and watched the torrents of snowflakes as they fluttered about, with some landing on the ledge of the window in white, sparkling piles. Maybe if Holly was feeling better tomorrow, he could take her out to build a snowman and make snow angels…

He stood there, thinking of several things at once, and tried to ignore Lucifer, who crooned 'Ramble On' behind him. He thought of how the smallest of things could change life so significantly, and he wondered if Dean would ever agree to keep Holly. He had a feeling Dean would finally come around. He could see through Dean even when they'd fought, and he knew that Dean was just trying to stick with the right choice like all the other times, and was trying to coax himself to get through this one too, just like the other ones, when in fact, it was equally hard for him.

The wind howled and the fire in the fireplace flickered, crackling, as Sam headed over to check if more wood was necessary. It wasn't. The heat from the fire was good and comfortable, and he pulled up the chair from beside Holly's crib and sat before the fireplace, watching the glowing flames and hoping that Lucifer would vanish somehow. He appeared less and less these days, and Sam didn't know why, but he liked to think that he was finally fighting his illness and pulling himself together. There could be no other explanation for it.

A whimper from the crib shook Sam out of his thoughts. Frowning, he cast a glance to his side, and in the soft, amber light from the fire, he could see Holly stir. Sam got up and made his way to the cot, putting his hands softly on the railings and peering inside. Holly was squirming in her sleep. She moaned, clutched her bunny, and slid her thumb into her mouth, before letting out a low sob.

Sam reached a hand inside and adjusted her blankets but Holly opened her eyes, bewildered, and looked right at Sam. She pouted, her expression turning cranky. Sam chuckled and tapped her cheek with his finger. "Hey," he said softly.

Holly raised her arms towards him, face still cranky. She looked like she was going to cry and Sam didn't want Dean to wake up. So instead of trying to pat her back to sleep, he obliged, and scooped Holly up into his arms before walking back to the chair by the fire. Her skin was slightly warm to the touch, but Sam had read that it was a normal reaction to the vaccines. As he cradled Holly, Lucifer flickered and vanished.

Holly sniffled into Sam's t-shirt, rubbing her nose against his shoulder, before circling small arms around his neck. A miniature fist bundled the material of Sam's t-shirt and he unwrapped the blanket slightly from around him, enshrouding it around Holly too, so that both of them were covered under the material. Then he placed a hand on Holly's neck, rocking her back and forth. She whimpered out a tiny sob.

"What is it?" Sam asked her softly.

"Boo-boo," Holly complained, clutching his t-shirt tighter.

"Just sleep, it will be okay when you wake up," Sam replied.

"Noooo," she whined.

He waited there beside the fire with Holly in his arms, patting her back occasionally and rocking her, until she fell asleep again. After making sure that she was out, Sam was placing her back in the cot when she woke up and let out a wail.

"S'mmy," Dean called out immediately, at the sound of her voice, and Sam held Holly close, twisting around to look at Dean, who was waking up.

"I've got her Dean, it's okay," he said.

"'S m'tter?"

"It's the vaccines," Sam replied, "I'll take care of her. You go back to sleep."

"'Kay," Dean replied, before falling asleep again, his snores taking over the sound of Holly's soft wails.

Sam rocked Holly, starting to walk around, until he got tired and sat down in his bed. He cradled her head to his chest and yawned. "Go to sleep, Holly," he whispered, running his hands through her hair. "Shhhh."

She fussed about a bit before she relaxed again, and went back to sleep. Sam lay her on the bed to adjust the blankets around him and Holly whimpered again, but fell quiet when he held her. She nearly woke up again, and whined when he put her in the crib. That was when he realised what she wanted.

Bundling her up in her blankets, Sam took Holly to his bed. He lay her on the side of the bed that faced the wall and got in with her, holding her against himself, letting her sleep on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her. He tucked her into a few blankets. She fisted his t-shirt again, but didn't wake up.

Sam watched her sleep for a while, feeling her warm, small body curled up on him with heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with Holly's weight. The wind sang songs outside, whistling, howling, moaning, and lulling Sam into going back to sleep. Lucifer didn't return and Sam finally understood what was keeping him away as he watched Holly through half-mast eyes, with her thumb in her mouth and her other hand holding on to him like she trusted him to never hurt her — to never let her go.

And he promised himself that he wouldn't.

**~o~**

The next week, Dean found a hunt close by. It was a simple salt-and-burn, and it would take them two or three days to sort it out. After Sam had declared that he would like to keep Holly, Dean had been looking for simple hunts that they could take up, just to see how it would work out with both Holly and hunting.

By this time, Holly had decided that her new bed for the nights was Sam's torso and he didn't mind it one bit. He simply held her close and let her sleep on him, while Dean narrated bedtime stories — tales that Sam could remember from his own childhood, like _Green Eggs and Ham_ , _King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_ , _Aladdin_ and _Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves_. Sam's own hallucinations of Lucifer were next to non-existent, and he had realised that just holding Holly close would chase them away whenever they made an appearance. Sam needed something tangible to ground him to reality — and that was Holly. No suture scars, no wounds. The fact that he had a laughing, breathing piece of his soul right there in front of him, adoring him as much as he adored her, was more proof than anything else that he wasn't in Hell.

Sam had explained to Holly that he wasn't just some stranger who had taken her up. He told her who he really was — her father — and she didn't get the meaning or the importance of it, but Sam felt good knowing that Holly now knew that her mother wasn't her only parent. Any attempts to make her call him 'Daddy' instead of 'Fammy' were ineffective, though, but Sam had come to love the nickname — so he didn't mind it much. Dean loved his own nickname as well.

There was a babysitter who sat hunters' children, not far from where they lived. Sam and Dean visited her with Holly, examining all the protective charms and sigils around her house before agreeing to leave Holly with her while they hunted. The prospect of not seeing Holly for a couple of days was awful but they managed to pry Holly's screaming, wailing form away from themselves and place her in sitter's arms before hastily leaving the house.

Two days away from Holly seemed like two days too long. Sam wondered how he had managed to soften to such an extent, but Dean ardently missed Holly too, from what Sam could make out. Sam didn't sleep a wink because Lucifer was screaming in his head again, and the simple salt-and-burn turned out to be not-so-simple when the ghost knocked Sam against a tombstone. He shielded his head with his arms, but his forearm took the blow in a terrible burst of pain. Dean dropped a match into the salted remains just as the ghost grabbed Sam's throat. As the ghost vanished with an agonised scream, he felt his windpipe mercifully relax, and he gasped for breath.

Sam had a large bruise on his forearm by the time he and Dean left for Whitefish. It was painful, and even more so if he touched it, but there was nothing that could be done, except wait for it to heal. Sam didn't care, though. Bruises were a part of their job. All he wanted now was to see Holly again.

Holly was napping when Sam and Dean arrived at the babysitter's house. The sitter, Helena, was taking care of another child — a little boy who was barely walking — and she put the younger child in Sam's arms before rushing off to get Holly.

The child got fussy at being held by a stranger and Sam rocked the baby consolingly, an instinct that was natural these days, when Helena arrived with a cranky Holly at her hip. Holly looked grumpy, and was rubbing at her eyes, when she spotted Sam and Dean. She instantly dropped her hand and held her arms towards them. "Deaaaa! Fammy!" she said happily, face brightening as a smile lit it.

"Hey, munchkin!" Dean said enthusiastically while taking Holly from Helena. "We've missed you."

Holly just adjusted her chin on Dean's shoulder circling her arms and legs around him and holding on tight. It was a gesture she took comfort from, and Sam was awed at the trust it symbolized.

"Hi, baby," Sam said, leaning over to kiss Holly's forehead as she peeked at him from over Dean's shoulder.

Holly frowned at him, and looked at the little boy Sam held. She seemed to be contemplating something. All of a sudden, before Sam could react or move away, Holly had raised a hand and brought it down on the other child's cheek with a loud _smack_.

It took a minute for the baby to process what had happened. Helena stood watching them, shocked, as Dean turned around, bewildered. Tears slowly started to form in the boy's eyes while Holly twisted about to look at Sam, a frown on her face.

"Fammy mine!" said Holly, flouting the silence.

The dam broke. The little boy let out a wail, sobbing and squirming in Sam's arms while Helena rushed over to collect him, looking scandalised at Holly's behaviour.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sam said to Helena as he handed the child over. "She didn't—"

"You should know to teach your child some manners," Helena snapped at Sam, trying to quieten the boy.

"She's nineteen months old," Sam pointed out.

"She's old enough to be told what is wrong," Helena replied, glaring.

It was a mess. The boy wouldn't stop crying and Helena was visibly annoyed at Holly's behaviour, so Sam paid her and quickly left her home with Dean and Holly, knowing Helena wasn't an option for a babysitter anymore. It was hard to find hunter babysitters and Holly had annoyed the only one they'd found close to their place. Really, as a parent, he ought to tell his daughter about the rights and wrongs, Sam thought, as he and Dean headed to the car.

Sam sat Holly in her car seat and frowned at her as he buckled her in. "That was wrong, Holly."

She shook her head at him, frowning right back at him. "Fammy 'Olly!"

Dean laughed as he slid into the driver's seat. Sam rounded on him. "This isn't funny, Dean. She hit the other kid!"

"And that's what's funny, Sam," Dean replied, when Sam got into the passenger's seat. "You don't think it's cute she's so possessive about you?"

"It's still wrong," Sam pointed out.

"I think it was adorable," said Dean, shrugging.

"Fammy 'Olly!" Holly repeated from the backseat, and Sam twisted around to face her.

"That was very bad of you, Holly," he said sternly. "I don't want you doing that again."

Immediately, Holly pouted, eyes welling over. Sam shook his head at her. "Don't cry. There's no use for that."

Precisely at that moment, Holly let out a wail. Dean rubbed a finger between his eyebrows exasperatedly while Holly continued to cry, and Sam sat with his arms crossed. When they stopped at the cabin Dean went to the back immediately and collected Holly in his arms. "It's okay, munchkin, I'm not mad at you, all right? That babysitter didn't know what she was saying."

Holly clung to Dean as he took her inside, leaving Sam to take the wheel and park the car. He entered the cabin to see Dean sitting on the bed trying to soothe a very upset Holly. He glared at Sam.

"You know," he said, "she's only a kid. That sitter was crazy, and you're just being stupid now."

Holly turned a tearful face towards Sam before burying it in Dean's chest. Dean scowled at Sam, gesturing for him to take Holly and Sam sighed, before going and perching on the bed beside Dean. He reached for his daughter and gently laid a palm on the back of her head.

"I'm not mad at you," he said, "but you're not supposed to do that again, okay?"

Holly looked up at him, hiccupped and nodded, tears falling down her cheeks again. Sam chuckled. "You're a little drama queen, aren't you? Come here." He swept her up into his hold and let her cry against him for some time. When she had calmed down, he stroked her curly hair back. "Want to go back to sleep? Helena woke you up from your nap, didn't she?"

She babbled some sort of a reply in a low voice, and yawned. Sam ran his sleeve gently over her cheeks and wiped away the tears and snot, before pulling his jacket away. Beneath it, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing the huge, blue bruise on his forearm. Holly noticed it and bent forward, to poke a finger at it.

"Oooooo!" she said, and her soft fingers prodded the large contusion.

Sam hissed as pain shot through his arm. "Ouch!"

Holly removed her finger, looking scared. "Boo-boo?" she asked, lips forming a pout.

"Yeah, a little," Sam replied. "Don't worry about it. You should sleep. Dean could tell you a story."

Holly blinked at him and the next second she was bending over. Sam felt his throat constrict as tiny lips pressed onto the bruise. Holly looked up again and gave him a wide smile. "'Olly kichie boo-boo!"

"Look at that, Sammy," Dean said from beside him. "We've got a little doctor with us!"

"Thanks," Sam told Holly, before glancing at Dean and grinning at him. "It's better already!"

Holly giggled. "'Olly yuv Fammy!"

His breath caught in his throat. He thought about what she'd said and processed her babble. Had she? She had never said that before. She had…

Holly interrupted Sam's thoughts by turning around to Dean. "'Olly yuv Deaaaa!" she said. Dean opened his mouth once but it remained open.

Sam swallowed, regaining his composure. "Thanks, baby," he said, "we love you too."

Dean shut his mouth, nodded at Holly and cleared his throat. "He's right, munchkin. You're awesome."

Holly giggled again as she wrapped her arms around Sam. "Jo-jo," she announced, and Dean stood up from his place.

"You can sit," Sam told Dean. "I'll put her in the crib. She only needs me at night."

"You need to sleep too," Dean told Sam, his voice still gruff from the moment they'd shared with Holly a minute ago. Sam had never quite seen Dean so affected by anything after Bobby's death and yet, he thought, the way Dean's eyes were widened, the way he was swallowing, as though still trying to process Holly's words . . . Holly had to be some kind of a miracle.

"No, I'm—" Sam began, but Dean interrupted him.

"Just go to sleep, Sam," he insisted. "You haven't slept in two days, have you?"

"I… um… not exactly."

"Get some rest," replied Dean. He gestured to the bed. "I'll wake you both up for lunch."

Sam reluctantly lay down, holding Holly to himself. Dean gave them a small smile before reaching for the blanket and laying it gently over them. He pulled a chair and sat beside the bed. "Do you want a story?"

"No—" Sam began, but Holly turned to Dean and nodded enthusiastically.

"Ay Yaya!" she suggested.

Dean sat back on his chair and crossed his arms. " _Ali Baba_ was your daddy's favourite story," he told Holly. "He totally had the hots for Marjinah too."

"Did not," Sam protested, cheeks turning pink.

"It's okay, Sam," said Dean. "She was pretty darn intelligent, I'll give her that."

Sam huffed and turned away, but didn't say anything. Dean began to narrate the story, but both Sam and Holly were asleep by the time he'd said 'Open Sesame'.

 


	7. The Winner

# Seven: The Winner

 

"Hey, Mitch."

Sam scratched at his nose as he sat on the couch, holding his phone to his ear. Mitch was one of their hunter colleagues, who had promised to try and find someone to take Holly. And if he was calling again, it meant only one thing.

 _"Hey, Sam,"_ Mitch replied. _"I got some news for you."_

Sam knew what it was. He pressed his lips together. He needn't think about it so much, he realised. The call could just be about the Leviathans, or Dick Roman. "Yeah?" he asked Mitch after a moment. "Good or bad?"

_"Good. I found someone who's ready to adopt your kid."_

"Really?" Sam asked the other hunter, raising his eyebrows.

_"Yeah. Nice family too. Friends of my buddy. They already have one kid, but are ready to adopt the second one. The dad's a kindergarten teacher, the mom's a surgeon. Got a big house and all that. They don't hunt but they know about the stuff that goes bump in the night, so your little girl will always be protected."_

Sam processed the information. This sounded really good. He glanced at Holly who was playing in the sitting area, making noises as she made her dolls fly about in the playpen. Sam thought of her life in a clean, big home with a surgeon mom and a teacher dad. She'd love it. But…

He sighed. "Mitch, listen…" he said, wondering how to explain to the other man that he didn't want to give Holly up. After making Bobby's hunter friends look around for a family for Holly, after all this hard work, Sam felt guilty for what he was about to say. Holly would stay. He and Dean had reached this understanding a few days ago. They had missed her too much when they'd left her behind on their hunt. She helped both of them, and they would manage their hunts even with her—without making her a hunter.

"We're keeping Holly," said Sam, finally getting to what he'd wanted to tell Mitch all along.

Mitch didn't reply for a whole minute. Then he let out a breath, the crackle of which reminded Sam of rustling leaves in a dry wind. _"Yeah, I get ya, Winchester,"_ said Mitch.

Sam paused, licking his lips. "You — you do?"

_"Yeah, I do."_

"You're not pissed?"

 _"I'm not,"_ Mitch replied, _"but some of the other hunters might be — after looking for so long and all. But I'll tell 'em."_ He hesitated. _"Take care of your little one."_ The next moment, the line was disconnected and Sam put the phone back on the couch, blinking at it. That had gone surprisingly well.

He was glad, though, that Mitch had listened. Holly was Sam's little miracle, and even if Mitch hadn't agreed, Sam would have had his way, but this was much better. As he thought about this, Sam couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips. Holly, his daughter, was going to be with him. Forever.

**~o~**

Sam and Dean soon discovered that Winchester luck only lasted so long. A couple of weeks after the conversation with Mitch, just a few weeks after Dean had agreed to keeping Holly, calamity hit again. And it started with Lucifer reappearing in Sam's hallucinations.

Lucifer had been completely absent recently. Sam did not miss the annoying, terrible voice in his head and the devil in the corner of his vision. Sam did not miss staying up nights because he couldn't sleep. He had Holly to help him with one of the biggest _fuck you_ s that life (or Cas), had handed him. Holly was the tangible, real part of Sam that grounded him from the hallucinations. He didn't need anything else when he had Holly and it was like he was normal again — or at least who he was before the wall broke. But this was an improvement, and he'd take this over anything else.

Then came the day when Holly ceased to be enough. Sam would always remember it as the worst in his life, one that set off a chain of events that he couldn't forgive himself for.

The day began uneventfully. Dean was in the shower and had told Sam not to disturb him for the next hour. So while Dean cleansed himself, Sam stood at the stove, stirring chicken soup. He was on lunch duty today and he wanted to make sure he did it properly.

Sam was putting some bread in the toaster when Holly called out to him from the playpen. Sam put the soup to simmer and went to the sitting room to pick up his child.

Holly grinned at him when he had scooped her up into his arms. He took her to the couch and sat her on his lap as she explained her toys to him in gibberish. Holly was content to stay in his lap, and she played happily while he watched her and the chicken soup simultaneously. Just when Sam was about to set Holly back in her playpen, Dean's phone rang from the coffee table.

Sam squinted at the ID. It was Sheriff Mills. He picked the phone up in his hand, swiping across the screen to accept the call, when Holly snatched the phone from him and put it to her own ear.

"WO!" she said enthusiastically, as Sam covered her hand with his, trying to take the phone back.

"Give that to me, baby," he said.

"Uuuungh!" Holly grumbled, twisting away from his grip as she spoke again. "'Olly!" she announced, in a loud voice. Sam stopped trying to reach for the phone and Holly sat still, listening to the voice on the other side. Sam chuckled, watching Holly's dimples appear as her eyes widened in enthusiasm. He could hear the Sheriff's muffled voice, but he didn't know what she was saying.

"Deaaa?" Holly enquired, looking up at Sam, her eyes sparkling. "Deaaa gushhhhh," she replied, 'gush' being her word for a shower or a bath. "Pee Fammy?" she asked again.

Sam wasn't sure what she meant by 'pee' but he hoped that Holly just meant to ask if Jody wanted to speak to him. And he had guessed right, for in a moment, Holly took the phone off her ear and held it out to him. "FAMMY!" she hollered, as though he was five miles away.

"Jeez, I'm right here," Sam told her mildly, taking the phone from her. He picked Holly up and put her in the playpen, before heading back to the kitchen with the phone held between his shoulder and ear. "Hey, Sheriff," he said.

 _"Who was that?"_ Jody enquired.

"Just…" Sam paused, and then smiled. "Nothing. Just someone."

_"How old is she?"_

"Just over nineteen months," said Sam, flashing an adoring smile at Holly, who waved at him from her playpen. He waved back at her and blew her a kiss. Gosh, was he turning into a ball of mush. But Holly had done that to both him and Dean. She had managed to wrap them around her little finger. It was amazing.

 _"Wow,"_ Jody replied, bewildered. _"Kids are becomin' all tech savvy these days. Makes me think of our humbly simple childhoods, if you ask me."_

Sam chuckled at the memory of his army men and his Legos and all the times that he and Dean chased each other about or played hide-and-seek. "Yeah," he said, "to be honest, though, I had no idea she knew how to speak in a phone."

 _"They just tend to imitate people around them,"_ said Jody. She paused. _"So you and Dean on babysitting duty or something?"_

"Babysitting – yeah," said Sam. "Kinda."

_"For how long?"_

"A while. We'll be babysitting her for a while."

Jody cleared her throat, evidently on the verge of saying something, when a voice spoke from behind Sam. "It's a big babysitting gig, Jody," said Dean and Sam turned around to see his brother emerge from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Dean headed straight for the kitchen, and Sam laid the phone on the counter top, switching it to the speaker.

 _"What do you mean?"_ asked Jody.

Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged as he towelled his wet, unruly hair. Sam cleared his throat. "She… well, Holly's my daughter."

There was silence. Then all of a sudden: _"Your – your **what**?" _ the sheriff sputtered _._

"I had a couple of one-night stands two years ago—"

"A _couple_ of one-night stands?" Dean snorted. "Try half the women in America. He had more than just a couple of those, Sheriff," Dean explained, adjusting his towel. "And he didn't use condoms in a few."

 _"And you're just keeping the kid?"_ Jody asked them.

"Well, yeah," Dean replied, shrugging, "we are." He licked his lip. "What's the matter? Why did you call?"

 _"I… I just wanted to check on you boys,"_ Jody replied hesitantly, as though she hadn't wanted to change the subject. Sam could understand why. _"Y'know,"_ Jody continued, _"since Bobby… I wanted to know how you're getting on."_

Dean swallowed and stole a glance at Holly. A wistful smile appeared on his face as he did so. "We're okay, considering. Still trying to see what we can do to kill that Dick, all puns intended, but yeah, we're good."

_"You find out what the Leviathans are up to?"_

"A whole lot of strange stuff, but we don't really know," said Dean. "We can't connect the dots here — we're looking for more info. What about you? You got any news?"

 _"Apart from more people being eaten every day?"_ Jody huffed, _"No."_

There was brief silence. _"So,"_ Jody began, breaking it, _"what's it like, taking care of a kid?"_

"A lot like managing a bunch of firecrackers," Dean chuckled. "I'm practically living with two Sams, Sheriff, and one's a bitch. At least the other one is cute." He ignored Sam's exasperated glare.

There was more silence from the other side and Sam's heart sank when he realised that the sheriff had lost her own son for a second time just a few years ago. He cleared his throat. "So… how are things on your side?"

 _"Not bad,"_ said Jody _. "I'll drop in and meet you boys sometime,"_ she promised. _"I need to see who this mini-Sam is."_

Dean laughed openly, something he'd been doing a lot lately. Sam noticed a lot of positive changes in their lives since they'd taken Holly in and this was one of those. Sam was glad that he'd been stubborn about not giving Holly up for adoption.

And, he thought, as Dean finished the rest of the conversation with Jody, that if it came to giving up hunting after they'd found a way to get rid of Leviathans, Sam would gladly do it. Probably, so would Dean. But even if Dean wanted to stay on, Sam wouldn't, and he would make sure that his daughter got at least a part of the normal life that he'd never had.

Once Jody had hung up, Sam finished the soup and he, Dean and Holly had a pleasant lunch together. Dean was more jovial, less brooding, and he pulled Sam's leg in front of Holly. Uncle and niece had a good time laughing and amusing themselves at Sam's expense (well, Holly probably didn't understand half the jokes — she only got excited and giggly because of the way Dean was laughing). Holly still accepted her vegetables only from Dean and she was fussy about them, so the jokes were Dean's way to get Holly to eat. He multitasked well and fed Holly while feeding himself at the same time.

Sam had to admit that Dean had a knack of getting Holly to eat even what she didn't like. Most of her food landed inside her mouth instead of her bib and she was getting less and less picky about what she ate. Also, Dean had managed to wean Holly off the night bottle, to replace it with the sippy cup. It had taken some tantrums to get there, but it was worth it, because Sam was pretty sure that the bottle was bad after a certain age.

Holly never ceased to ask about her mother, though it wasn't as frequent as before. She'd ask, and then get upset about it sometimes. She still thought that Allison would come back to get her. but Holly had adjusted to Sam and Dean, and Sam knew that she'd forget about Allison in due time. It was a saddening thought, though, that Holly wouldn't get to remember what it was like when her mother was alive.

After lunch, Dean had to head out for supply shopping and Sam decided to let Holly play for an hour before he put her down for her nap. He sat on the couch in the sitting room and spread a small blanket for Holly on the floor where she could sit and play. She hated being in the playpen or in the crib all the time so Sam and Dean generally let her play around the cabin when one of them could monitor her.

Sam had crossed his arms and was watching Holly, who sat on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her. She was playing with a large beach ball and her bunny, making cooing noises while she patted the ball with the flat of her palm. Lucifer had settled into the corner of Sam's vision, and he was smirking, while humming to himself. Sam ignored him.

The ball rolled away after a while and Holly got up to get it. Sam watched her pad away on little feet, to the corner of the room, and shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, though, there were two Hollys walking towards him, holding two balls. He swallowed. Shit.

"Uh… baby?" he enquired slowly, but both Hollys looked up at him and giggled as they toddled over to him. Sam ran a hand through his hair and thought. Okay. He had to stay calm. He needed to stay calm. He could handle this. He knew how to handle this.

"Fammy!" Holly called out — Sam was hoping she was the real one anyway — and her footsteps quickened into an unsteady run as she reached him, and climbed onto the couch and onto his lap. The other Holly sat down on the blanket and hugged the ball to herself.

"Fammy!" the Holly on his lap said, and he swallowed.

"Hey. What happened?"

"Deaaaaa?" she asked him.

"He's at the supermarket. He'll—" Sam took a deep breath. _Please come back fast, Dean._

"FAMMY!" Holly called out again, displaying a lovely dimple.

"Yeah, Holly—"

"FAMMY!" she said, giving him a grin as her eyes sparkled. "Fammy, Fammy, Fammy, Fammy—" Sam shut his eyes, "FAMMY!" When he opened them, Lucifer was straddling him, with a pleased grin on his face.

 **Fammy** , he jeered, flashing his teeth, and Sam clenched his jaw.

"No," Sam whispered. "You're not—"

 **Faaaammyyyy** , Lucifer said again with a terrible caress in his voice, and Sam tangled his fingers in his hair, turning away, muttering to himself.

"You're not real. You're not real. You're not real… Oh, God…" said Sam, his breaths coming in large, shaky gasps. "Oh God, oh God…" he repeated, fingers tightening as they grasped his hair and Sam pulled at them till he felt a few strands get detached from their roots, sharp pain blossoming on his scalp.

**Fammy?**

Sam took in a sharp inhale. "Go away. Please. Not my daughter."

**Fammy!**

"Go," Sam choked, covering his eyes with a hand. When he'd look again, it would be okay. It would be okay.

When he opened his eyes Lucifer was still there and he gave Sam a shit-eating grin as he fisted Sam's lapels. Sam turned to the real Holly who was looking at him from the mat, bewildered and scared. What did this whole thing look like to her? Something crazy, obviously.

Tears began to gather in Holly's eyes, as they started to widen. She was visibly frightened. Sam puffed out a breath. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's going to be okay. You just – you play with your ball, okay?"

Holly obviously knew that it was not okay, because she shook her head, her eyes beginning to water. "Fammy?" she enquired in a small voice.

"I'm all right," he said. "I won't hurt you. No one will hurt you. Don't be scared." Sam shut his eyes again. If he didn't do anything, if he stayed like this, nothing would happen and eventually, Dean would come back and help him put a stop to this. Until then, he just needed to hang on.

 **Such a bunch of lies,** said Lucifer's voice in his ears. **You're telling your daughter it's okay, when it's clearly not. You're telling yourself you'll get better, when you really won't.**

"P-P-Please…" Sam begged, to Lucifer, to anyone who was listening, to his own mind, to the God who had never cared. His throat constricted painfully and he swallowed. "Please."

There was silence. Pin-drop, thick, uncomfortable, terrifying silence. Sam coaxed his body to relax, and tried to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In—

**FAMMY!**

Sam acted purely on reflex. Startled by the voice, he suddenly stretched out his arms and pushed at Lucifer — surprised when Lucifer's weight gave away easily. Almost immediately, Sam heard a thump and a scream, which didn't belong to Lucifer and —

Goosebumps made themselves evident all over his body. _Oh, God, oh no, nononono…_

Panicked, Sam opened his eyes to see Holly on the ground, lying spread-eagled on the blanket, her face crumpling as she bawled loudly, screaming and beating her legs against the floor.

Sam's stomach lurched. He had pushed the real Holly, thinking it was Lucifer.

**~o~**

When Dean entered the cabin with bags of groceries, he saw Sam curled up on the couch, cradling Holly to himself. Soft sobs issued from Holly's small form as Sam kept murmuring a litany of 'I'm sorry'. When he looked up and saw Dean, though, all resolve seemed to break and he clenched his jaw as his eyes looked pleading.

"What happened?" Dean asked, his heart rate starting to quicken as he dropped the grocery bags and approached them.

Sam gently held Holly out to Dean. "Take her," he said in a shaky, panicked voice.

Dean obeyed him quietly and Holly wrapped her arms and legs around Dean as he rubbed her back and sat down on the couch, next to Sam. "What is it, Sammy?"

"I – I—" Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Don't leave her alone with me, okay? Just take her with you — or I'll run errands the next time."

"What?"

"Lucifer," Sam replied. "I – I, Dean… shit," he whispered, putting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in his palms. "I fucked it up," he said.

"What did you do?" Dean asked him, hoping that Holly wouldn't pick up on the profanity. Currently, though, she was shaking against him as he rubbed her back. Something had scared her for sure and looking at how Sam was reacting, Dean was scared too.

"I pushed her, Dean," Sam said in a muffled voice, which broke mid-sentence. "I… shit," he repeated, sniffing slightly and looking up at Dean with misery written all over his face. "She was on my lap and I thought it was Lucifer and I pushed her. She fell from the couch."

 _"What?"_ Dean immediately began to detach Holly from himself. "When did you start seeing Lucifer again? And did you check—"

"I checked her for injuries," said Sam when Dean tested Holly's pulse while she squirmed. "I checked her pupils," Sam continued, "and looked for bruises, tenderness… she seems fine. But…" He licked his lips and buried his face in his hands again. "I messed up. Just like you said I would."

Dean let Holly cling on to him again and looked back at Sam. "Is she talking?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Like usual. She cried a lot too. She's just scared now, though. Of me, probably."

"Hey, no, Sam, it—"

"Don't call it an 'accident,'" said Sam. "Because I should have told you." He snorted ruefully. " _Sam Winchester, the child abuser._ Just what I need."

"You didn't abuse her," Dean replied calmly. "And you — you weren't in your right mind, man. The fucking Devil was haunting you, for God's sake."

"Yeah, but the CPS will take her away if they know," said Sam. "You know that, right? My mental health is all the more reason I shouldn't be raising her. And anyway, what I have done, whether I intended it or not, is a form of abuse. Don't defend me."

"Hey, I'm not defending you — or saying anything, but look, she isn't hurt," Dean replied. "It was an accident. Like you said, you didn't mean any of it. We'll just be more careful from now on, all right? I won't let it happen again."

"I'm still a child abuser," said Sam, defeated.

"No, you're not," Dean insisted. "You didn't hurt her out of spite, or because you wanted to. And I'll help you, okay? Until we fix you. I'll punch you out of your hallucinations, if that's what I have to do."

Sam looked supremely miserable and didn't even respond to Dean's joke. Dean knew this was because his brother genuinely thought he deserved to be punched in the face if he hallucinated again.

Pushing his hair back with his hands, Sam stood up. "I need a beer," he said. "Want one?"

"Sure," Dean replied, as he began to rock Holly. "I'll just get her to sleep first."

"Yeah, okay."

"And Sammy—" said Dean, as his brother began to walk away, "you're a lot better than Dad, okay? I know you'd never hurt Holly on purpose. We'll find a way to fix you up now, so we don't have to worry about Satan messing with you anymore."

"Yeah," Sam snorted ruefully, "if there's a way to fix this. And we can't go on with me like this, Dean. Not forever." He clenched his jaw and blinked a couple of times. Then he walked away to get his beer, while Dean worked to get Holly to sleep, hoping that there was really some way to fix Sam — to get rid of those hallucinations because Sam was right: there was no way they could go on like this for much longer.

**~o~**

By evening, Holly seemed off. Sam wasn't sure what was going on with her, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go very wrong.

Holly was okay now. She wasn't crying, and she didn't seem scared of Sam, but she was grumpy and a little drowsy. Sam tested her pupils again and they seemed okay and Holly didn't look like she was hurting anywhere, so he stopped worrying just a little. Every time he remembered how he had flung Holly, though, his stomach churned, and he hated himself some more.

He didn't deserve Holly. He should have told Mitch that he was ready to give her up.

Sam, Dean and Holly sat down for dinner a while later and Dean swirled around the tomato soup in Holly's little bowl before spooning some, blowing it, and bringing it to Holly's mouth. She shook her head and refused to accept it.

"Be a good girl, munchkin," said Dean softly. "Here," he said, holding the spoon out further.

Holly looked up at him and tears welled in her eyes, as one slid down her cheek. "Jo-jo."

"You just napped a while ago, kiddo," Dean said to her, thumbing the wetness away with his free hand. "Are you not feeling okay? What is it?"

Holly's lips trembled. "D-Deaaaa," she said weakly, sniffling, as more tears fell.

Dean flashed Sam a look of worry as he put the spoon back in the bowl. "Holly," he said calmly, "does it hurt?"

Holly nodded, and Sam's heart skipped a beat. So she wasn't okay, after all. Sam had really hurt her.

 **Aw, Sam, your sob story is touching,** said Lucifer, suddenly appearing in the corner of the room. Sam took a sharp breath, feeling, for the first time, that he'd deserved everything he'd got in Hell.

Lucifer grinned. **That's right. You're a filthy child abuser.**

"Where does it hurt?" Dean asked Holly in the meantime. The fact that Holly wasn't crying hysterically, like the time in during the bath or after her shots was scaring Sam even more. Dean seemed to feel the same way. He started to untie Holly's bib. "I think we should take her to the hospital, Sam." He turned to Holly. "Where does it hurt, munchkin?"

And Sam's heart leapt into his throat when Holly's hand went up to her head. However, before either Sam or Dean could react to that, her eyes rolled up and she plunged forward, face first. "FUCK!" Dean yelled as he caught her with his palm to her forehead, before she hit the table. He pulled Holly out of her highchair in one go, held her to himself, threw away her bib, and started to rush to the door. "Sam, get the car keys!"

Sam pulled himself up and bolted after Dean, grabbing the keys and going to the Impala, where Dean stood, holding Holly in his arms. He patted her cheek. "Hey, wake up, munchkin."

She didn't respond. Sam unlocked the driver's seat, got in and Dean slid into the back. The moment they had settled, Sam started to drive, accelerating the car as he pulled out into the street.

"Hey, hey, Holly?" he could hear Dean say from behind. "Hey," Dean said again. "Sam, she's waking up," he reported. "Her pulse, though…"

Sam heard a whimper and pressed his foot down on the accelerator. "You're okay," Dean was saying at the back. "You're— shit—" there was a choking noise, accompanied by wet gurgling.

"What's happening?" Sam asked, barely able to breathe.

"She threw up," Dean replied. "Just drive faster, will you?" he said to Sam, as he started to soothe Holly in a low voice. "It's okay, munchkin, happens to everyone, you'll be okay, just sit for a while…"

When they pulled over outside the ER, Sam was about to have a meltdown. Lucifer was there again, following Dean as he leapt out of the car before Sam had stopped it completely. Sam put the car into park and followed his brother, watching, as Dean laid Holly in a gurney while they were surrounded by medical staff. Sam noticed that Holly was unconscious again.

"She took a fall this afternoon," Dean was saying to a nurse while she placed the mask of a resuscitator bag to Holly's face and started to pump. "She was okay, and suddenly her head was hurting… and she passed out." Dean sounded like he was on the verge of hysterics even as he said it.

"Okay, sir," the nurse replied, "we'll take it from here." Her colleague drew out her pager. Sam and Dean followed Holly's stretcher to a cubicle in the ER and Sam noticed, when Holly was attached to a monitor that her heart rate was low and her blood pressure was high.

"She vomited?" the nurse asked Dean, seeing the stains on his clothes, while the other tried to determine Holly's status.

Dean seemed to notice the stains for the first time. "Yeah," he said, "yeah… what—?"

"I've paged the paediatrician," the nurse replied. "You'll have your answers soon." Just as she said that, the curtains were ripped back and an elderly man entered with a frown in his face. He hurried to Holly's bedside, his expression serious.

"What have we got here?" he asked the nurse.

"Signs of raised ICP," the second nurse replied. "She's about twenty months old."

"GCS?"

"Seven."

Sam had heard these words enough in his life, the most prominent experience being after Dean's injury from the accident that they'd had with the semi. ICP was intracranial pressure. GCS was the Glasgow Coma Scale, a scale doctors used to determine extent of brain injury. And as far as Sam knew, seven wasn't a good number.

The paediatrician — Dr Robins, as his nametag read, pursed his lips. He looked at Dean. "What happened?"

Dean repeated the chain of events to the doctor — of Holly falling down, and her symptoms; and the doctor seemed to have drawn a conclusion by the end of it. He shone a penlight into Holly's pupils, and spoke. "It sounds like some sort of an intracranial haemorrhage," he said honestly. "The symptoms indicate an epidural haematoma, meaning she has haemorrhaged into her dura mater — a layer of her meninges. We'll get a CT done to be sure, but she'll need immediate surgery once we confirm."

"Do whatever you have to," Sam said, finding his voice for the first time. "I'm her father," he told the doctor. "I'll consent to her surgery."

"Okay," said the doctor, picking up the pad that the nurse handed to him and writing in it. "Take her for the CT," he told the nurse. "Send me the results immediately. And alert the neurosurgeon on call; the child will need to be prepped quickly."

The nurse nodded and as the doctor started to walk away, Dean called out to him. "Hey, doc?"

Dr Robins turned around. Dean hesitated. "Will she. . . will she be okay?"

He licked his lip. "Mr—"

"Winchester," said Dean, who gave his real name by mistake but didn't seem to care. "I'm her uncle."

"Look, Mr Winchester," said Robins, "Your niece has suffered what we classify as a severe brain injury. If it is a haematoma, the surgery is quite simple, and her kind of injury has maximum prognosis too, but, with her age, the risks are greater and… I'm sorry, but I'll advise you not to get your hopes up."

Dean nodded once and Sam saw tears in his eyes for the first time since Bobby's death.

 


	8. The Right Choice

# Eight: The Right Choice

 

 

Some of the most gruelling moments of Sam's life had been spent in hospitals with Dean. Dean's botched rawhead electrocution had permanently damaged his heart (temporarily), and then the collision with the semi had set a reaper after Dean while his body fought its injuries. Even today, the voice of the doctor calling his father's death still lingered in Sam's head. More recently… Bobby. The loss of their adoptive father was still painfully fresh, and Sam remembered the harsh lights of the hospital every time he visited a police station, a school, a library…

All these times, Sam had felt so helpless, so angry that he'd wanted to do something, to change the situation in some way, but everything had always seemed out of his hands.

This was exactly how Sam felt as he sat with a cup of coffee in his hands, Dean next to him, while they waited for Holly to come out of surgery.

Dr Robins had explained to Sam and Dean, using Holly's CT scan, that she did indeed have an epidural haematoma and, now that it was confirmed, he'd have a neurosurgeon operating upon her. The neurosurgeon, Dr Williams, who was older than Dean by a few years, was a small, plump woman in starched clothes. She was prompt and serious when she explained the surgery to Sam and Dean.

They would have to do a procedure called a craniotomy to evacuate the bleed. This would be done by drilling three small holes in her skull, called burr holes, and then she would extract a part of the skull to remove the blood. After evacuating the blood, they would put Holly's skull back together with the help of screws. The surgery was routine, but Holly risked bleeding out on the table.

When the doctor had finished explaining, it was all Sam could do not to excuse himself to go vomit.

Two hours had already passed since Holly was taken in for surgery. There was no word from the OR yet and while Sam assumed it meant everything was going fine, he was still terrified. Did doctors regularly remove parts of the skulls of patients? How long did these surgeries usually take? Sam glanced at Dean, who had buried his face into his hands and hadn't looked up in a while. Lucifer was occupying the seat next to Dean and muttering _child abuser_ constantly as he grinned at Sam. Sam tried to ignore him, but he couldn't help but think that Lucifer was right this time.

During the third hour since Holly had been taken in, Sam was almost dozing off on his chair. Dean hadn't moved or spoken much yet and Sam suspected he was asleep. Lucifer kept yelling in Sam's ears, and his eyelids drooped for a few moments and opened again, unable to shut completely. His wishes weren't even that complicated: he wanted Holly to be all right and he wanted to sleep. But life always loved to give him the middle finger.

Sam leaned his head back against the wall. The hospital chair he was sitting on was doing a number on his back, and he shifted uncomfortably as he shut his eyes to Lucifer singing 'Heat of the Moment' (and Sam really, _really_ hated that song). He was between sleep and wakefulness, unable to remain in either state for more than a few minutes, when a hand patted him on his shoulder.

"Mr Winchester?"

Sam opened his eyes at the strange male voice, only to see a nurse standing over him. Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, how's she? Is it done?"

"She's out of surgery," said the nurse. "We have shifted her to recovery and will transfer her to the ICU in a while, where you can visit her."

Sam nodded. "Is she—? Was it—?"

"The surgery went well," the nurse replied. "But the recovery period is crucial, so she'll be closely monitored."

Sam nodded, unable to form any more words. He watched the nurse head towards the OR complex again, probably to recovery, and he turned to Dean, whose muffled snores were audible. He still slept with his face in hands. Sam tapped his brother on the shoulder. "Hey, Dean?"

"Hmmph, huh?" Dean woke up with a start, eyes bloodshot and wide, and he looked about. He blinked when he remembered where he was. "Wha'ppened?" he asked Sam, before yawning. "'Ow's m'munchkin?"

"The surgery went well," Sam replied, blandly repeating the nurse's words. "She's in recovery. We can visit her in a while in the ICU."

"And she's doing fine?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He muffled a yawn into his fist and blinked several times to become alert again. He'd been very tired and hadn't wanted to sleep and it had taken a lot of coaxing from Sam for Dean to hesitantly take a nap.

"She's being monitored," said Sam in reply to Dean's question. "The nurse didn't say anything else."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Let's freshen up and eat something then. She'll take a while in recovery, right?"

"She'll be a couple of hours, I s'pose," Sam replied.

"Come on," said Dean, getting up from his seat and stretching. His vertebrae snapped at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair and cracked his knuckles. "Gosh, that chair was uncomfortable. Get your ass up now, I don't want Holly to be alone for longer than she should be."

Sam shook his head. "You go on."

"Sam, it's the middle of the night," said Dean. "You haven't eaten since lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Sammy."

"Just go, Dean."

Dean stared at him for a moment, sighed, and came back to sit beside Sam. Sam turned away from his brother, gritting his teeth against the terrible guilt as he felt Dean continue to stare at him. The next second, there was a hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Sam," Dean repeated for the umpteenth time that day.

"Funny you still think that," Sam muttered, still not looking at Dean. "Holly was in surgery for almost four hours and they're not telling us anything about her condition. They had to open up her fucking skull. And you want me to think that I didn't have a hand in any this and to feel just fine about it all?"

"Holly's okay. She will be okay. She's a Winchester. Hell, the nurse just said that she's fine!"

"He never said that, Dean," replied Sam. "He just said that they're going to watch her closely."

Dean tugged at Sam's shoulder and turned him around so that they were facing each other. He licked his lower lip. "Look, man," he said, "I've said this a hundred times, and I'm saying it again: you didn't mean it. You won't do it again."

"Just once was enough, don't you think?" Sam asked him sarcastically.

"Just eat something, Sammy."

"Really, Dean, you eat. I just… my stomach is weird."

"Bull," said Dean, dismissing the lie in a moment. "Come on. No excuses."

Sam sighed. There was no way he could deter Dean from this. He stood up, stretched and followed Dean to the cafeteria, where they ate sandwiches that Sam pushed down his gullet with great difficulty, even though his stomach grumbled with hunger. A while after they were back from the cafeteria, Holly was shifted into the ICU and Sam and Dean were allowed in for limited time.

The ICU was cool and full of the uncoordinated sounds of different machines bleeping away heart rates of various patients. Most of the beds were occupied and all the occupants were asleep. Sam swallowed when he noticed that most of them were on ventilators and they all looked pretty bad. Holly was in the bed at the far end and the curtains around her cubicle were drawn.

Sam parted the material with shaking fingers, his heart dropping to his stomach when he took sight of Holly. She looked tinier than normal, eyes shut and face pale, with a turban of bandages covering her head. The blankets were drawn up to her shoulders and a central IV line peeked out of the neck of her gown. A ventilator stood beside Holly's bed, pushing in breaths for her. A drain stuck out from her bandages. Her heart rate was still low, but her blood pressure was mercifully normal.

Sam's throat constricted painfully. He just wanted to scoop Holly up and run away from this nightmare. He wanted to make it all okay for her. He felt so terrible, so helpless, and he didn't want to feel this way.

"We'll wean her off the vent in a couple of days," said a voice suddenly and he turned around to see Dr Williams enter the cubicle. She smiled at him. "Holly is doing fine, considering. She's breathing on her own. We've only put her on the vent to be sure."

Sam nodded and cleared his throat. "That's – when can we take her home, doc?"

The doctor tilted her head. "You will have to wait a few weeks, I'm afraid. We usually discharge such patients in a week but Holly is too young and the surgery was fairly major. We can't just discharge her too soon, without making sure."

"Doc," said Dean, grabbing the surgeon's attention, "will she — you know—?" he gestured vaguely to his head.

"She'll be normal in a few weeks. She will be disoriented and confused for now but that will wane. I'll always be available, if you need me."

"Okay," said Dean, "thanks."

"No problem," replied the doctor. She paused. "She fell down?"

"Yeah," said Sam in a low voice, eyes fixed on Holly, "from our couch."

"How did that happen?"

"I was out grocery shopping," said Dean, "and Sam was watching her and, well, it happened in a moment — it was very sudden."

"While he was watching Holly?" Dr Williams sounded suspicious.

"Yeah. He just — his attention was diverted. For a moment, like I said."

"I see." She didn't sound convinced. "Anyway," the doctor continued, "I'll leave you to her for a while, but it's not visiting hours, so please leave when the nurse asks you to. You can come back in the morning."

"Yeah," said Sam, "thanks, doc."

She nodded before leaving the ICU, suspicion still etched all over her face. Sam should have realised then that everything was going to go hell, especially when Lucifer whispered behind him.

**The doctor doesn't look like she believed you, did she? You think she'll get CPS involved? Oh, this is better than everything I did to you at Hell, Sam. Good luck.**

**~o~**

"Mr Winchester, I am Sophia Hayden, the caseworker assigned to your daughter. I'm sorry, but I can't allow you inside right now."

Sam was outside the ICU, shocked and staring at the social worker's face while she spoke to him. She was a kind-looking, pretty Hispanic woman but her expression was stern as she stood outside the ICU door to keep Sam and Dean from going in to see Holly.

Dean shook his head. "I don't understand," he said hoarsely. "What's wrong?"

The lady glanced back at the door and then gestured to the plastic chairs on the side. "We should discuss this properly," she said, heading forward to sit down.

Sam followed her numbly while Dean stood where he was for a moment before coming along as well. Hayden sat down on the seat in the centre as Sam and Dean flanked her. Sam's heart thumped his apprehension. He should have suspected that this would happen. And now, if the CPS found out what had actually happened to Holly, they would definitely put her in foster care, and with everything, there was no way Sam would leave with his parental rights intact. How would he and Dean fight this to get Holly back? Would he get to see Holly again?

"As you might have guessed, I'm from the CPS," said Hayden, as she faced Sam. "We were informed by the hospital staff this morning about your daughter's admission to this hospital with a head injury and a suspicious history."

"Suspicious—?"

"Your explanation for how and why your daughter 'fell' isn't good enough," said Hayden blandly.

Dean took in a sharp breath from the other side. "Hey, hey, listen up, lady—"

Hayden turned to him. "You're Holly's uncle?"

"That's right," he replied indignantly. "And ever since Holly's mom died, Sammy and I have done nothing but taken good care of her."

"I am sure you've been careful, Mr Winchester," said Hayden, "but my job is to make sure that Holly is safe with you. I was informed that her injury was because of negligence on your part."

"There was no 'negligence'," said Dean angrily, doing the air-quotes. "Don't try to twist our words. Sam just looked away for a minute — it was an accident that definitely won't repeat itself."

"I am not twisting your words," said Hayden. "I am only here because we received a call from someone who was concerned. As soon as I can be sure that Holly is not abused or neglected, I will be out of your way. I am not here to separate you from her."

"Seems quite the opposite," Dean muttered under his breath. Sam glared at him. He really didn't want to piss off this caseworker right now.

"I just want to visit her," Sam told Hayden. "The hospital informed us that she woke up in the middle of last night, and she's bound to wake up again. I just — she's a kid. Can't we go in and at least make sure she doesn't wake up alone?"

Hayden seemed to consider this for a while. "I'll think about it," she said. She got up. "Until I make a decision and gather some information, you're not allowed in, and the hospital staff will see to that. Please don't make it hard for anyone." She cast a glance at Dean when she said that, as though she knew Dean would try and get inside anyway.

"No, we'll wait," replied Sam and Hayden nodded, before taking off in the direction of the ICU. Once she was gone, Sam looked at Dean who was looking back at him with wide eyes.

"Dean," said Sam, "we're screwed."

**~o~**

Two weeks after the surgery, all of Sam's fears were confirmed. Hayden informed him and Dean that, since she didn't feel that Holly was being treated right, she was making arrangements to move Holly to foster care. The case would be referred to a family court, and Sam could hire a lawyer and fight his case.

Hayden had come over to the cabin to take a look at Holly's living conditions, and the rotting wood and lack of rooms in the cabin had only made Sam's case worse. Hayden had even tried talking to Holly who had just cried on and on for Sam and Dean. In Sam's opinion, that should have indicated how much of an accident this was. Holly wouldn't like them so much if they'd been abusive. However, Hayden didn't take Holly seriously — she was now pretty sure Holly's accident was worthy of her attention.

She consulted several people whom Sam and Dean had come in contact with since adopting Holly, including some people who frequented the parks and saw them with Holly regularly. The reports from their side were inconclusive but the babysitter's remarks pushed it. When Helena said that Holly was with her for about two days, Hayden's suspicions were confirmed. She added this to her list of things that indicated neglect of Holly. The fact that Holly had gotten her boosters almost two months after they were due didn't help either.

Sam watched, blow-by-blow, as the tiniest of problems quickly turned into a mountain of crap. By the time Hayden told him and Dean that she'd be putting Holly in temporary foster care, Sam had already seen it coming. Dean tried to pick a fight with Hayden, but Sam gripped his shoulder and shook his head at him. After Hayden left, Sam promptly made his way to the bathroom.

He turned on the faucet at the sink and filled his palms with water, splashing it onto his face. _"Pash!"_ Holly said suddenly in his head and Sam took a deep breath as he looked up at the mirror, remembering how much Holly loved splashing about in the water when she was bathed. Like a little duck.

Sam chuckled sadly. He missed bathing Holly. He missed taking her for walks. Gosh, he missed Holly. He missed her so fucking much.

There were so many big things about her that he loved. So many little things that he loved even more. Holly was like a ball of light, just there to brighten every crevice of Sam's mind and make his days — his life — better. He didn't know how he had gone two weeks without seeing her. He didn't know how he'd go without seeing her until their hearing in court. And if they took her away after all that…

… They actually wouldn't be wrong to do so, Sam realised with a pang. He looked at his wet hands, remembering how he had pushed Holly, and guilt dropped into his stomach like a brick. He didn't deserve Holly. He was a horrible person.

Sam bent over, splashed some more water onto his face and thought of the hearing. He'd have to hire a lawyer. He wasn't sure he or Dean had the finances for a good one; they were barely getting by with all of Holly's expenses, and this was after they'd saved themselves the cost of the frequent motel rooms. There was no way they could afford a lawyer. He could perceive the future clearly, and he probably wouldn't be seeing Holly again. Right now, as he thought of it, it felt oddly right. Holly would be better off away from him.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. He didn't want Holly to leave. He so didn't want to let her go. But he had to. He had to convince Dean and this… this was going to be so hard.

"You should stop thinking so loudly," said a voice suddenly and Sam started, twisting around, face dripping, to see Dean at the door. His brother gave him a wan grin. "I scared you," he said, stating the obvious.

"We don't have money for a lawyer," said Sam, tearing off a paper towel and wiping his face with it.

"We'll manage," Dean replied to Sam as he came forward.

"What, with more scams?" Sam asked him. "We gave them our real names this time, Dean. Actually, I'm surprised there aren't Leviathans on our ass already."

"Holly isn't listed as a Winchester," said Dean. "She has insurance. I've been sending the premiums to Veronica and she's paying them."

"So. . . so what? We fight the case and we take her back? Ignoring that the caseworker is right on some level?"

Dean looked at him sadly. "She's wrong."

"You can keep telling yourself that," said Sam quietly. "But you know the truth. What happens the next time I don't have control over my hallucinations, and you're not around, for some reason? You can't always look after the both of us, Dean."

Dean was silent. He palmed his mouth and dragged his hand down his chin before shaking his head. "I'm not letting her go."

"Dean," said Sam in a low voice, "we always knew it would come to this. That we'd have to give her up. It came quicker than we expected — but I think it's time."

"Yeah, we said we'd give her up at first," said Dean, "I was coming to terms with that, and then you decided to keep her. And no, _no_ , Sam, we've done enough! We've sacrificed everything!"

"And I can't bear it if by some mistake, we sacrifice Holly too," said Sam. "I can't, Dean. Please."

"And you're okay with this? That you won't see her again?"

"No!" Sam exclaimed, running a hand through his hair and turning to look at the mirror. "No, I'm not. But it's the right thing to do. You were right. Before Holly gets hurt again. And you know it will happen." He sighed. "She'll be able to forget us in a few months, Dean. And she'll be happy. She's friendly and she adjusts quickly too."

"This was an accident which won't happen again," Dean said, repeating his words for the umpteenth time. Sam couldn't bear to see the helplessness in his brother's eyes.

He clenched his fist, feeling guilty again, but this time for what he was doing to Dean. "Please, Dean," he said. "It's — it's taking me a lot to even _think_ — just go with me, okay? Don't fight with me on this. I can't — I don't want to — I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" he He didn't continue. He wanted Dean to understand. It was taking a lot of his resolve to even come to this decision but it was in Holly's best interest. He swallowed. "Dean," he said, "you know I'm right. This was what we had decided initially and I'm sorry I deterred us… but you know — you always knew that this was the right path. Holly can't stay with us. Maybe it's time to accept it."

He looked at Dean with beseeching eyes and Dean pressed his lips together, his expression pained, before finally nodding at Sam. At that moment, Sam swore he could see the grief of losing Castiel and Bobby in Dean's eyes. Dean couldn't afford to lose anyone else, yet he was going to lose his niece too, thanks to Sam.

Sam licked his lips. "I'm sorry, Dean _,_ " he repeated. _I'm sorry for forcing you to decide to keep her. I'm sorry for forcing you to decide otherwise now. I'm sorry I'm an awful brother and father._

He hoped it was forgiveness that he saw in his brother's eyes when Dean nodded.

 


	9. Lullaby

# Nine: Lullaby

 

 

"She looks so small, man," Sam whispered. His voice was barely audible over the beep of all the heart monitors in the ICU.

Dean pretended to check one of Holly's IV bags while casting a hasty glance at the nurse's station. He and Sam had snuck into the OR complex in pairs of scrubs that they'd acquired in the interns' locker rooms, and they had added caps and masks to further disguise themselves. The corridor to the ORs also led to the surgical ICU, where Holly was still recuperating. The disguises had been fool-proof and they'd walked hastily and hidden themselves in Holly's cubicle so no one would recognise Sam by his height. And here they were now, seeing Holly after ages, for what was possibly the last time.

Holly had been breathing by herself right from the day after her surgery. The doctors were impressed. However, the lack of a ventilator seemed to be the only thing that was different about Holly since the last time Sam had seen her. The turban of bandages was still there. Sam knew there was pain too — the doctors had told him that. Sam had wanted to soothe his child through the agony, but he didn't have that chance. He was incredibly angry at himself for not being there for her. He didn't know why Holly had to bear the brunt of the piece of shit that was his life.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Sam leaned forward and adjusted Holly's blankets, before palming her cheek gently. Her skin was dry and she squirmed. He smiled, running a thumb over the place where the dimple formed when she smiled. Dean stopped fiddling with the IV and knelt down on the other side.

"Hey, munchkin," he said gently, taking Holly's tiny hand in his. "Wake up, baby girl. Look who's here to see you."

Sam snorted. "I wish it were that easy."

"She'll listen to me," said Dean softly. "She always does." He smiled, and Sam could see the pain in Dean's eyes as he took Holly's small palm to his lips and gave her a small kiss. "You always listen to me, don't you, munchkin?" he asked Holly.

Holly didn't respond. Dean let go of her hand and placed it gently on the bed, the pain intensifying in his eyes. He sighed. "We're so screwed, Sammy. I didn't want to let her go, man. Not Holly too." He swallowed, rubbing his thumb over Holly's palm as he spoke, "I mean, why is it always us? I was hoping we'd get a break, you know. Just—" He shook his head. "Never mind. This is how it always ends for us anyway. This is how it is, right? After Bobby and Cas… it's Holly. But we know she'll be safe, so that's an improvement, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated for the umpteenth time, knowing he was the cause of Dean's sadness.

Dean shook his head at him. "Not your fault, Sammy. I wouldn't have been prepared even if you hadn't said you wanted to keep her."

Sam licked his lip, the guilt refusing to leave as he turned to Holly, who was still squirming. He placed his hand on her cheek again, trying to calm her down but she whimpered and suddenly, her eyes opened.

Sam stared at Holly's cloudy eyes, appalled. He backed away an inch. "Dean?" he breathed.

Dean was already back on his feet, and he was staring at Holly with his mouth agape. "Told you she'd listen to me," he said hoarsely when Holly turned to him, her eyes filling up. He bent forward. "Hey," he said to Holly.

Holly's lip quivered. "D-D—"

"Shhhh," said Sam, trying to quieten her. She looked at him, tears falling out of her eyes and slipping into her bandage. Little sniffles were escaping her and her mouth formed a pout as her chin quivered, tiny whimpers making themselves evident. She was crying, but she was too weak to even make a sound. Sam thumbed the droplets away and cupped her cheek. "Hey, baby."

Holly reached up a hand to her cheek, where Sam's palm rested, and in a sudden gesture, she grasped at Sam's finger. Sam swallowed at a lump in his throat. He leaned forward, clutching the bars on Holly's bed, and placed his forehead gently on hers. He felt the gauze and was afraid of what he would witness once the bandages were removed, because Holly would have stitches up her freaking _scalp_. The scar would remain forever, even when her hair grew back; it would remain as evidence of what Sam had done to her.

And then he remembered that he'd never be seeing Holly again. This was the last time. The last few moments that he had with his daughter.

Sam had to swallow down tears as gently, he raised his head and rubbed his nose against Holly's in an Eskimo kiss. Holly whimpered but when Sam looked, she was smiling faintly.

He smiled back at her. He wanted to hold her, to ease her pain, but he couldn't. He wished he could take all her pain for himself. He wished he could promise her a better life, so that fighting in court would at least make sense. But he couldn't think of ruining her future, and he knew that what he had decided was right, at least for Holly, if nothing else. It was cruel and hard, but it was the best route to take under the circumstances.

Dean suddenly cleared his throat and Sam looked up, to see tears standing in his brother's eyes. Dean blinked them away and smiled at Sam, before averting his gaze back to Holly. "Hey," he said, "you wanna go back to sleep? Me and Sam will be here — right next to you."

It was lie, but Sam knew that Dean was only saying it because he didn't want to leave while Holly was awake, and it was too risky to stay on for too much longer because someone was bound to come this way and notice them.

Holly shook her head. Dean touched her nose. "I can sing," he said. "Want that?"

Holly began to shake her head, but then she nodded. Reaching out, she grabbed Dean's finger, and Sam saw his brother's chin quiver, just a little, before he bent over. Holly was now holding both Sam's and Dean's fingers, one in each hand. Sam realised that he and Dean were her only sources of comfort right now and his heart shattered some more.

"My mom used to—" Dean cleared his throat, "uh, this was what she sang when I was a kid," he said softly, and Sam's own throat closed up. He turned away for a moment and sniffed, as Dean covered Holly's fist in his free hand, and started to sing.

 _"Hey Jude, don't make it bad,"_ Dean's voice was off-key, and just above a whisper, but Holly was looking at him and listening attentively, her eyelids shutting sluggishly over her large, sunflower blue eyes.

 _"Take a sad song and make it better,"_ Dean sang. He winked at Sam just a little, before continuing.

_"Remember to let her into your heart,_

_Then you can start to make it better."_

Holly's eyelids started to droop and Sam joined in.

_"Hey Jude, don't be afraid._

_You were made to go out and get her._

_The minute you let her under your skin,_

_Then you begin to make it better."_

They heard the door to the ICU open. Sam stopped singing and glanced through a chink in the curtains. He saw a doctor enter for his rounds, giving instructions to interns as he made his way to his patient. Turning back to Dean, Sam gestured for him to hurry, and Dean stopped singing, watching Holly's eyes shut completely. He took a sharp breath and kissed Holly's cheek again.

"Sorry," he whispered. "You be a good girl, munchkin. We… we l-love you, okay?" A fist tightened around Sam's heart at his brother's honest words. Holly opened her eyes ever so slightly and her mouth moved once, twice, before she squeezed Sam's finger. Sam leaned over, only to hear her whisper something he didn't expect.

"D- D…Dada?"

Sam looked up at Dean, whose eyes were wide. He didn't think he could believe his ears. He wanted to hear it again, and again, and he knew he could listen to Holly say it over and over and forever, and yet…

"D-Daa-DDD'da," Holly repeated, fingers clutching on to Sam tightly before her eyes shut again. Her heart rate slowed slightly and Sam knew she was asleep.

He was staring at Holly, listening to the echo of her words in his mind, until he felt Dean loosen his finger from Holly's grip. "Come on," said Dean hoarsely, and Sam nodded, before numbly following him out of the ICU. By the time they were in the changing room, Sam felt something break inside of him. The tears he had been holding back expertly for so many days suddenly fought for an escape and he blinked against them, but lost when a lone, salty droplet slid out of his eye.

Sam wiped it away hastily on the back of his palm as he got back into his clothes, but Dean had noticed. Sam felt his brother's hand on his shoulder, and looked straight into anguished green eyes. The comfort that Sam had always found in Dean's presence was gone, replaced by cold, bone-deep grief.

He nodded at Dean, and was unable to prevent another tear from escaping. Dean shook his head and his own lips trembled, his eyes going damp for a moment, before he blinked it all back and regained composure. They left the hospital together, and Dean drove back to the cabin. A thick, cold silence hung between them.

They didn't know anything about the future. They had no idea how Sam's psychosis was going to end, or if he was doomed to be this way forever. They didn't know how they were going to avenge Bobby, or defeat the Leviathans. But they did know one thing. Nothing would ever be the same again.

**~o~**

Sam never seemed to be able to get out of the trauma of losing Holly. In the weeks that followed, Dean watched his brother deteriorate before his very own eyes. There would be times when they'd talk, and the damnedest thing would remind them both of Holly. And Dean would swallow the lump in his throat and watch Sam turn away, his own throat working and his eyes glistening.

It became harder for Sam to sleep too. He lived off the pills to get through the night and even then, Dean, while he lay sleepless in his own bed, would hear his brother wake up abruptly in terribly short intervals, try to go back to sleep for a while, struggle, and then give up. When Dean woke up after his own four hours, he tried not to comment on Sam's red-rimmed eyes or the bags under them. Once or twice, Dean heard soft, whispered sobs stifled into a pillow and the helplessness that he felt at those points had no comparison.

Then Sam stopped sleeping altogether. He stopped twisting about under his covers, he stopped even _trying_ to sleep and Dean tried to stay awake for him, he really did, but he dozed off one day — that single day when he shouldn't have slept. Before he knew it, he was woken up by his phone ringing, and Sam was missing. When Dean took the call, a strange voice informed him that his brother had been in a car accident.

**~o~**

Castiel had been away too long. He could see from Dean's face, his behaviour and his eyes that the Winchesters had gone through more (metaphorical) hell than Castiel could ever guess. He was in the shock treatment room of the mental asylum that Dean had gotten him to, saying he needed Castiel to heal Sam. Castiel had just killed the demon before disconnecting the electro-convulsive therapy machine from Sam, and laying two fingers on his forehead to take away the madness. But as he did that, instead of recognising him, his young friend said something worrying.

"You're not real," Sam whispered desperately.

Castiel stared into Sam's eyes, taking in the breathy voice, and tried to sort out what he had seen when he had attempted to fix Sam's wall. He had always thought there was a limit — a stopper when it came to torturing someone. He had never seen anything like this. Though it was all Sam's pain, Castiel felt something twinge inside him.

Bobby was gone, which was enough to crumble the Winchesters, and yet they had faced another loss after that: Sam's daughter. Flashes and flashes of memories were present — right there in Sam's head like an open album, of a little girl in Sam's arms, curling into him as she slept, touching his face, making him smile…

Castiel had never imagined Sam with a daughter, but he supposed Sam was as capable of procreating as any other human. And it seemed he had been very happy with her, until he had had to give her up. There was much guilt lingering around the memory, so it wasn't hard to guess the exact incident that had been the final nail in the coffin when it came to the crumbling of Sam's wall.

Castiel wasn't a mind reader. He healed, he smote, and he could do several other things, but he couldn't figure out human minds. Yet, Sam's grief and pain were so intense, so palpable that they had jumped out at him in flashes and sounds the moment he had put his fingers to Sam's forehead to heal him, and Castiel knew now that there was no way out of this for Sam. There was nothing left of the wall to reconstruct.

"Oh, Sam," said Castiel, wondering how he was going to break the news to Dean, "I'm so sorry."

**~o~**

"Sam has a daughter?"

Dean was shocked at the unexpected question as he and Castiel stood in Sam's room, trying to figure out what to do next to pull Sam out of his death sentence. He cleared his throat. "He… he does. We gave her up, though. She's been adopted by someone we know. Good family. How d'you know about her?"

Castiel looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "It's… it's everywhere in his mind. I saw it when I was trying to heal him." He paused. "I'm sorry, Dean." Dean didn't ask why he was sorry, but was surprised at the explanation when Castiel spoke on. "It is the grief of losing his daughter that broke him down," said the angel, his face reflecting sadness.

"You serious?"

"There were several other factors, of course, but this is the one that tipped the scales," Castiel explained. "Even if I can, somehow, heal the psychosis, the trauma from the incident is too deep to get him out of it completely."

Dean drew in a long breath. "Can't you… fix it then? Build the wall and…" he hesitated, "… And make him forget he had Holly? Because he's really suffering, man… wall or no wall…" Dean felt awful even suggesting it, but if Sam's pain over having to give Holly up was so bad, he had to do something about it. He knew it was wrong, and that Sam would be angry beyond words if he ever found out, but Dean could see no other option here. Sam was not coping with the whole Holly incident well, and Dean didn't want to lose Sam to this.

"Unfortunately," said Castiel, "this works both ways. To remove those memories, I need to do something to improve Sam's mental condition and his wall, and I find that… that I can't."

Dean watched Sam stare helplessly at the corner, probably at Lucifer, while he stood next to Castiel, trying to process what the angel had just told him.

"What the hell do you mean 'you can't'?" he asked, hoping to find an explanation, some piece of logic to provide to Cas so they could get this done. There was no way he was letting Sam die. Holly was gone — he had let her go, but he wouldn't be doing the same for Sam. No, he was going to find a way out of this. He was going to help Castiel put Sam's wall back together.

Castiel looked remorseful. "I mean, there's nothing left to rebuild," he said, and Dean felt his heart skip a beat.

"Why not?" he persisted, hoping, praying…

"Because," replied Castiel, "it crumbled. Pieces got crushed to dust by what was happening inside his head right now."

Dean took a breath and leaned back against the wall. "So you're saying there's nothing?" he asked. "He's going to be like this until his candle blows out?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, briefly meeting eyes with Dean. "This isn't a problem I can make disappear. You know that." He sighed, and Dean turned away, but Castiel spoke again, with newfound determination in his voice. "But I may be able to shift it," he said.

Dean's mouth opened and shut, but he managed to talk. "Shift—?"

"Yeah," said Castiel, "and get Sam back on his feet." He went over and sat on Sam's bed, before turning to Dean. "It's better this way," he said. "I'll be fine."

A look flashed in Castiel's eyes before he averted his gaze, and Dean somehow knew what was going to happen. He wasn't sure whether he liked it, but he knew, at that point, that it was the only way to get his brother back again. He had to let go of Castiel for a second time.

He didn't know how many more people he could let go of.

**~o~**

Castiel thought of what he had seen in Sam's head. He thought of the destruction, the sorrow he had caused from all his actions, and he knew that the first step towards making amends was to fix Sam — to take his madness, and to take his grief. Sam would never have gone through any of that pain if it hadn't been for Castiel.

Castiel's penance for his actions would be too little but it was the only way to repay the Winchesters, in some way, for everything they had given him. The Winchesters were family and he had betrayed them. They didn't deserve this agony.

"Now, Sam," he said, as Sam's fearful eyes met his. "This may hurt. And if I can't tell you again, I'm sorry I ever did this to you."

Castiel raised his hand and placed it on Sam's forehead, willing all of Sam's madness to come to him instead. And as he did it, he saw the little girl in Sam's arms and silently apologised to Sam, before wiping away her visage and all memories of her from Sam's mind.

He felt like he was truly, genuinely helping someone after a long, long time.

**~o~**

_"Hey, Dean!"_

Dean clutched the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hey, Sheriff," he said to Jody. "How's everything?"

 _"All good,"_ she replied. _"I uh… I was in town and…"_

"Come over!" said Dean, smiling at the thought. "Sam and I could do with some company."

 _"Great!"_ said Jody. _"I can't wait to see Sam's little one!"_

Dean felt his heart sink. "Uh, Sheriff," he said, looking around to check that Sam wasn't in the vicinity, "we kinda gave her up."

_"What?"_

"We had to," said Dean, washing a hand down his face. "Long story."

_"I have time."_

He swallowed. "Okay, I'll tell you when you come over. And…" He looked around again, and then lowered his voice. "Don't mention her to Sam, okay?"

He heard Jody sigh from the other side. _"Okay."_

**~o~**

"So, you just… asked him to…?" Jody asked Dean as they sat on the couch in the sitting area. Sam had gone grocery shopping, and Jody had come in the meantime. Dean had already called his brother, who had promised to be back soon.

Dean licked his lower lip. "Yeah." His eyes went to the spot where they'd kept Holly's playpen, and he remembered her playing with her dolls and her rabbit. It brought back pain so intense, so fresh, he had to push the memory away to think straight.

"It was for the best," Dean told Jody. "You have no idea what he was going through."

Jody had a distant look in her eyes. "I can imagine," she whispered. Dean remembered then that she had lost her son too, and he nodded.

"Unfortunately, so can I."

They sat in silence for a long time, and it was only broken by footsteps outside and the jingle of keys. Dean looked up and saw Jody wipe her eyes surreptitiously before she turned to the door and stood up. The door opened and Sam entered with bags of groceries in his hands.

"Hey!" He grinned at Jody.

"Hi, Sam," Jody replied softly as she walked towards him and threw her arms around him. Sam was taken aback for a moment, but he chuckled as he returned the hug.

"It's good to see you too," he said, and Dean had to swallow down a lump in his throat.

"Hey," Sam said to Dean when he had broken away from Jody's hug. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a familiar looking cassette tape. "I found a kids' rhyme cassette in your collection," he said, and threw the tape to Dean, who caught it. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Anything I should know?"

Dean almost didn't have an answer to that as he turned the tape over in his hands and stuffed it in his jacket. "It's the one we used to play to get you to shut up when you were a kid," he said. "I… uh," he cleared his throat, "I found it in the trunk a couple of days ago, and…" he shrugged, "good times."

The cassette had, indeed, been Sam's, and Dean had fished it out of the Impala's trunk for Holly after he had realised that Deep Purple songs weren't exactly what she should be listening to. She really loved the rhymes and often, when Sam, Dean and Holly went for car rides, Holly would insist on Sam and Dean joining in when she sang.

_"Yo Babola pala ta, YEYAYEYAYOOO!" Holly crooned loudly as Dean tried not to laugh. "Deaaa," she called out, as the singer on the cassette sang the next line, and Dean didn't think too much before joining in._

_"And in his farm he had a cow," he sang, prodding Sam. "Come on, Sammy!"_

_"And a 'moo-moo' here," Sam crooned, not needing much persuasion._

_"And a 'moo-moo' there," Dean joined him._

_"Here a 'moo', there a 'moo', everywhere a 'moo-moo'!" they chorused together, happily, barely hearing the cassette tape over their own voices._

_Sam twisted around and poked a finger into Holly's belly, causing her to squeal with laughter, while Dean trained his eyes on the road and coaxed himself not to look back. The next moment, laughter resonated in the Impala — a sound the car hadn't heard in ages. Dean was reminded of the times before the Apocalypse, before Stanford and when his mother was alive and he never realised he had stopped singing, until Sam prodded his arm._

_"Sing!" Sam said, his smile wide and his face bright._

_That was when Dean realised something else that made his heart feel a hundred times lighter: Sammy was happy. Dean just grinned at his little brother, before joining in again._

_"And a 'quack-quack' here, a 'quack-quack' there…"_

"Dean?" called a voice, pulling Dean out of his reverie. Sam was standing before him, looking concerned, and Dean realised that he had tears in his eyes.

"You okay?" Sam asked him.

Dean blinked back the tears and nodded at his brother. "Yeah, Sammy, I'm good," he said. And he wasn't lying. He wasn't at his best, but he was as good as he could get. He just needed time to re-adjust to life without the little bundle of joy that had been his and Sam's for a short while. Until she was ripped away.

At least Holly would be happy once she forgot about the Winchesters, and Sam wasn't suffering anymore. That was enough for Dean.

 


	10. Epilogue

# Epilogue

 

**_Two years later_ **

Sam held his fist against his mouth as he coughed once, grimacing when he tasted blood. He reached out for the box of Kleenex on the Impala's bench seat between him and Dean. Sam spat into the tissue and put it into the plastic bag with the others from before. Dean stole a few glances at him, but continued to drive.

The roads were deserted and quiet. Sam had no idea where he and Dean were headed. He had tried asking Dean, but Dean hadn't given him any definite replies. So Sam had just kept quiet and let his brother drive.

They had entered Bloomington, Indiana, and it was late in the afternoon before Dean showed any signs of stopping. Sam was practically starving by the time they got to a diner. Once they had placed their orders, Dean stood up from his place and left under the pretext of using the toilet, but Sam saw him pull out his phone and wondered who Dean was calling.

When they had finished their late lunch, Dean got back behind the wheel and Sam sat in the passenger seat, feeling tired and hoping for a nap. He cleared his throat. "Is there a case?"

Dean licked his lip as he turned on the ignition. "No."

"Why are we here?"

"I thought there was a case," said Dean, "but another hunter took care of it by the time we got here."

It was a lie. Sam knew that. If there had been a case, Dean would have asked him to research. He'd have given out details. It wasn't like Dean to just drive them to some random city like this and do nothing in particular, however, Sam decided to let his brother think that he'd believed him. He didn't want to prod Dean; there was something weird around here that Dean was unwilling to talk about. Sam decided to let him speak about it when he was ready, and until then, just go with whatever his brother said.

They drove around aimlessly and Sam was getting more and more suspicious until they stopped outside of a children's playground. Dean parked the car and sat with his hands clenching the steering wheel for a moment, apparently bracing himself for something, before looking at Sam. "Come on." There was a hint of sadness and hope in Dean's voice.

"Where?" Sam asked him. The anticipation from Dean was odd. Was this really happening, or was Sam overanalysing this situation? Was this a side-effect from the trials — overanalyses?

Dean gestured towards the playground. Sam squinted at it, noticing various children playing, a few at the swings and a few others at the slide and merry-go-round, before turning to Dean again. "Um, aren't we a little old for that?" Sam asked him.

It was worrisome that Dean didn't reply with his own brand of sass. He scratched at his nose. "I just wanted to see…"

"Kids playing?" Sam asked him doubtfully.

"Yeah—" Dean cleared his throat. "No. Well, the case I found was about a kid being possessed. He'd come here every day and he killed a few parents, so…"

"You want to check if it's been taken care of," Sam deduced, slightly relieved at the normalcy that was returning because he had been seriously worried about Dean for a moment there. He remembered the children's rhyme cassette tape he had found in the Impala two years ago. And there was another thing. Last year, while Sam had been living with Amelia, he had been cleaning the car once, only to find two small shoes, wrapped up neatly in a small plastic cover and hidden under the backseat. They'd been those squeaky shoes — the ones that toddlers wore, and they were pink with flowers on them, so they couldn't be Sam's old ones either. Suspicious, Sam had put the shoes back where they were. He hadn't mentioned them to Dean. Now, as he began to connect the dots…

… Was it possible?

"You gonna come or not?" asked Dean, shaking Sam out of his thoughts. He blinked up at his brother who was standing outside impatiently, and nodded, before opening the door and getting out. He followed Dean to the playground, where they sat at the benches with the other parents, watching and observing.

Sam couldn't see anything sketchy that was going on, because the other hunter really seemed to have taken care of the problem. However, he was fascinated at the scene before him. His eyes followed the little, jumping, playing children, and he saw the smiles on their parents' faces, wondering what it was about their children that made them so happy. And that was when he noticed the smile on Dean's face — identical to those of the parents. It was a mixture of happiness and pride, but it also had a wistful, reminiscing quality to it. Sam followed Dean's line of vision.

His eyes fell on a small girl. She couldn't be more than four and she was playing at the sandbox with a few other children. She had dark, wavy hair reaching a little below her chin, and a curly fringe fell on her forehead. As she smiled, Sam could see dimples on each cheek. Then she looked up, directly at him, long, slanting eyes fixing their gaze on him. She turned to Dean and Sam could sense Dean looking away towards the swings, as though he didn't want the girl to notice him. And just like that, her smile vanished, to be replaced by a frown.

"Okay, come on," Dean's voice sounded beside Sam. "This place is clean." He stood up, still trying to hide his face from the girl as much as possible.

Sam followed Dean reluctantly, his gaze still fixed on the beautiful child, who was staring back at him. She smiled and waved. Sam raised his hand, grinning, and waved back at her.

"Sam," said Dean, and when Sam turned around, Dean looked sad. "We gotta go," he said.

Sam swallowed as he followed his brother to the car. "Dean, who is she?"

They halted beside the car, and Dean looked at Sam for a long moment, before shaking his head. "Who?"

Sam knew Dean was exactly aware of whom he was talking about, but the next moment he felt little arms wrap around his leg. He looked down to see the child from before, clutching on to his thigh as she grinned up at him with bright eyes.

"Hey!" Sam greeted her, bending over to lift her. She yielded, letting him carry her, and Sam was surprised at how comfortably she fit into his arms. "Where's your Mom?" he asked the little girl. Now that he looked at her closely, he could see a thin scar on her scalp, where hair hadn't grown. It wasn't very noticeable, but Sam wondered how she'd got it.

The little girl just wrapped her arms around Sam's neck in reply to his question, and Sam was surprised. Did little kids do this with strangers? He wasn't sure. He chuckled, and hugged the child, drawing a strange amount of comfort from the action. Dean was watching him with a small smile on his face and Sam expected some comment about how he was a woman, but Dean didn't say anything. He seemed to look away for a moment and when Sam met eyes with his brother again, Dean was blinking rapidly.

The child twisted her head around and saw Dean, withdrawing an arm from around Sam to wave at him. Dean grinned at her. "Hey, sweetheart," he replied, trying to sound light, but Sam could hear the tremor in his voice. The girl giggled and waved at Dean again.

Sam held on to her for a while more, wondering where her parents were, until he heard footsteps behind him. "Holly!" a strange voice called out. "What are you doing?"

"Daddy!" the little girl exclaimed, and Sam turned around to see a man approach them. He nodded at both Sam and Dean. Sam set the girl to the ground, expecting the man to freak out about his daughter hanging out with strangers, but Holly's father was calm.

"Come with me," he said, holding his hand out to Holly. "What has Daddy told you? You shouldn't trouble other people."

"Oh, she was no trouble," Sam said to the man when Holly reluctantly walked to her father, but kept looking at Sam, lovely, sunflower eyes peeking out from beneath long, dark lashes. She had to be the most beautiful child Sam had ever seen.

"I'm sorry anyway," Holly's father replied, smiling. "She's just really friendly." He bent over and ruffled Holly's hair, before holding his arms out to her. "Come on, munchkin."

Sam heard Dean draw in a sharp breath as Holly was lifted up. Her father smiled at Dean. "She loves the nickname."

Dean chuckled, a hearty, fond chuckle that Sam hadn't heard from in a long while. "Suits her," he said, and Holly's father waved to Sam and Dean, before carrying her away. Holly continued to wave goodbye to Sam and Dean from over her father's shoulder, though, and Sam couldn't help but wave back, while Dean did the same with a shaky smile. By the time he had settled himself in the car, Dean was already seated inside, his knuckles white at the wheel.

Sam had too many questions in his head. Why did it seem like Dean knew the girl? Why did it feel like he, Sam, had known Holly at some point, and vice-versa? Why was she so friendly with a complete stranger? And for that matter, why didn't her father mind her mingling with strange men? Why did it look like he knew who Sam and Dean were — particularly Dean?

Sam needed an answer. At least one. This was too weird to let go. He knew Dean wouldn't tell him but Sam turned to his brother anyway.

"Dean," Sam said softly, "who was she?"

Dean loosened his grip on the wheel. "The little girl?" he asked. He hesitated when Sam nodded. "I don't know."

Sam knew it was a lie, but he didn't push Dean. Maybe someday, he'd find out who Holly was, and what connection she had with Dean. Maybe he'd get to know why she acted like she thought she knew Sam, but couldn't exactly remember who he was anymore. Maybe he'd know why his heart broke a little when her father took her away — like he was losing something from his life.

He sighed, remembering the question that Victor Rogers had asked him a couple of weeks ago — if he'd like children. Sam hadn't known the answer and had said so. He had thought about it, later, rolling the question over and over in his head, and Sam had realised something.

"Dean," he said, as his brother pulled the car back on the road.

"Hmm?" Dean responded, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

"Have you ever thought of a family? Like — if you'd like one someday?"

Dean shrugged. "After Lisa and Ben? Nope. Our life doesn't allow it, so why think about it?" Sam saw a flash of pain in Dean's eyes. "Why do you ask?" he said. "You thinking of ditchin' me again?"

Sam pursed his lips for a moment, before speaking. "No, of course not, but I was just thinking — you know, after the whole thing with Victor and Krissy and the other kids — maybe after everything is over…" He bit the inside of his cheek. "I'd like to think I can have a family, complete with kids, someday. And even if I don't meet someone… maybe a kid. They sound kinda cool. Maybe I'll adopt someone—"

"Okay, Grandma, that's enough," Dean muttered, and Sam couldn't help but notice that his voice sounded odd — a little wobbly, maybe. The little girl seemed to have shaken Dean quite a bit. Sam kept quiet and turned to look at the scenery outside the window. He didn't know how Dean's heart had shattered at his admission. Sam only heard two words from Dean's mouth, said in a broken whisper, and so quiet, he could have missed it easily.

_"My munchkin."_

 

  
  
  
  
**The End**


End file.
